


hold your miracles glimmering through the rust

by harperuth



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers (Aligned continuity), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drug Use, Government Conspiracy, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, pregnancy/birth language used but no mechpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “A full eight,” Vector murmured, optics staring to the side as if there was a window to see through.“Filling in our gaps,” Alchemist murmured in kind, “Perfect and beautiful.”- - -In the dreary morning light in Kaon, Megatron onlined with spark pain. As did Minimus in Altihex and Prowl in Iacon. Starscream was already busy numbing the feeling in Protihex. Arcee thought the discomfort was that of her spark settling into a new frame, in a new prison. Drift and Velocity, off-planet, welcomed the ache that heralded a new connection. A new life. A new set of dangers.A Sense8 AU.
Relationships: Aileron/Arcee (Transformers), Jazz/Starscream (Transformers), Megatron/Prowl (Transformers), Minimus Ambus/Rung (Transformers), Nautica/Velocity (Transformers)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 66





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> what started as an errant idea became my nano became THIS. thank you to james and k for every bit of help they've lent, and to everyone who's expressed any interest in this project that i never expected to come to fruition, let alone as big as it has.
> 
> housekeeping: relationships and tags will be updated with the story. more detailed warnings will be in the notes of each chapter. if i think of anything else i'll add it!
> 
> title from 'keep it close' by seven lions ft. kerli

There were still places untouched and unseen in the Universe.

Stars birthed and collapsed, comets streamed through new paths every second, sentient life found ways of flinging themselves into the blackness in pursuit of the unknown. It shouldn’t shock Vector Prime, they, more than any being, knew just how vast Everything and Nothing were, but there were still moments it managed to twinge something in their spark. Perhaps it was their own arrogance, thinking they could familiarize themself with the Universe only for that familiarity to be yanked away everytime someone or something strode across territory they hadn’t known to be there. Their spark twinged again and they lifted a servo to rub at their chest plating.

Or, perhaps, this was something different.

Before they had a chance to check with the others Liege appeared before them, lack of expression on his face the only thing betraying his panic. “It’s happening. Now.”

And then he was gone. Vector shook their helm, looking down at the settlement with a tinge of regret. Caminus spun slowly, and even with the pull on their Spark they took a moment, spinning a Blade in their hand, watching Caminus through its moving parts. “Discover well. Travel safe. Protect what matters most.”

They stayed just long enough to see the settlement’s exploratory probe break atmosphere, then sliced a hole in space and followed their Spark.

\- - -

Liege didn’t look up when Vector stepped through nothingness, far too used to the sensation of the edges of Something that bled into Nothing. 

He’d also spent enough time floating in Nothing to know it’s seductive call, and keeping his optics low and on Megatronus was best for everyone. Megatronus wasn’t looking at him, optics darting wildly about the room, looking for things they couldn’t see. Liege ran a servo over his helm, careless of the heat, how it made his own paint warp and bubble. “It’s safe. They won’t find you here.”

“Oh.” Liege whipped his helm back up at the voice, staring at Alchemist. Alchemist didn’t withdraw or falter under his optics, merely kept his path to fall to his knees next to Megatronus, taking his servo between two of his own.

“You’re here,” Liege said before he started thinking again, and almost winked out of existence. If not for Megatronus…

“I retrieved him,” Vector said, sounding far away and strained as they had for so many millenia, the weight of Primus’ burden on them always on the verge of too much, but never crossing the line; it was what they were made for. “I thought…”

“They thought right,” Alchemist said, still not looking at Liege. Probably for the best. Liege followed suit and looked down at Megatronus, who’s chest plates were already starting to part, just a fraction. It was enough to see the sickly light of a diminished spark peek through.

“Is he alright?” Vector asked, and Liege wanted to curse them all over again, for pretending to care, for not being there, for being so far removed that they even had to ask.

“When was the last time you opened your chest plates?” Alchemist asked, always the de-escalator. “That’s what our sparks look like now.”

Liege rubbed at his own chest with his free servo, the other still being thoroughly scorched by Megatronus’s heat. Weaker, duller, diminished. Five parts left of a whole, still limping along somehow. Vector’s weak, “Ah,” was barely a consolation. 

“You’re not actually here,” Alchemist murmured, too low for Vector to hear, as if that mattered.

“He wouldn’t let me,” Liege grit out, unable to hold back the feeling of their fight. It lashed through their shared spark and Alchemist winced. 

“Safer.” Megatronus panted, vents heaving. His helm was getting hotter and hotter under Liege’s servo.

“You deserve just as much safety,” Liege said, running through the same argument they’d already hashed out several times over.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Alchemist interrupted, digits, real and present actual digits, running along the widening crack in Megatronus’s chest.

“Forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your track record in that department,” Liege snapped and paused to vent. Alchemist didn’t look at him, didn’t give him even the gift of his disappointment.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Alchemist said coolly. Liege didn’t have an answer. Not that it mattered. In that next moment Megatronus’s optics snapped open, Solus’s forge fire blazing in them.

“ ** _It’s time_** ,” Megatronus’s voice reverberated through the small room in ways that it shouldn’t, and they all felt the proclamation ripple into the Universe, taking hold and altering it to this new truth. His chest plates split fully open, sickly spark light cycling just a shade too fast. Liege spared one last bit of concentration to keeping the sense of his servos on Megatronus’s plating, but the rest of him dove into Their Spark to share the experience.

It was painful. 

Liege knew it was mostly the fear and worry wrapped up in the act of bringing a new cluster to life, but it felt physical. He felt Vector’s twinge of anxiety, that maybe this time would be too much, that the strain on Their broken Spark would collapse it in like the dying stars they watched every day. _No_ , he thought back, and was echoed by Alchemist and Megatronus. For a moment he thought he felt the ghosts of their former sparkmates behind the assertion, but he brushed it aside. 

It wasn’t the time for death, but rather new life.

Memories and experiences that weren’t theirs to share flew through Megatronus’s, and Their, Spark. Liege caught bits and pieces, seeing clashing swords and firing blasters, hearing whispered words between trusted friends and closest lovers, feeling joy and triumph and sadness and fear, fear, fear, always an undercurrent of fear. _They’re strong_. He didn’t know who had thought the words, only that they were picked up and echoed like a prayer.

Or a blessing.

_They’re strong. They’re strong. They’re strong._

For one brief shining moment They visited. They watched a white mech placing practice swords back on their wall mount, his every movement made with the care that came from honing your body into a weapon. He turned, and his features transformed with joy, the feeling echoing in Their Spark. Liege felt as Vector ached for just a moment as the mech lost centuries from his stature, gleefully shouting, “Oh, it’s you! Wing! Wing! It’s happening!!”

They blinked as one and were standing in the middle of a busy enforcer station, optics on a creased and tired face, studiously filling in paperwork. They watched as another enforcer pinged something off his doorwings, causing the mech to sigh and look up, seeing Them. Liege cursed. The mech’s already furrowed brow deepened, the other enforcer forgotten. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

They blinked and saw a teal helm bent over books on a library table. She was calm, perfectly content. They watched her smile and sit up; felt the zing of satisfaction at finding an answer. She looked up and stretched, smiling at Them.

They blinked and were in the corner of a dirty bar, watching a mech at the center of his friends, laughing and jovially heckling the tale another was telling, but there were lines of stress on his face. Megatronus threaded Their Spark with amusement. _This is the one who has adopted my name. How appropriate._ His broad shoulders were held with tension despite no obvious danger. He caught their optics and frowned, laying a servo on his friend's arm, “Soundwave, who—?”

They blinked and recoiled as one, in a lab with the Hunter’s doctors, watching a spark installed into a dull pink frame, the mech’s vents coughing to life as her optics lit, locking her gaze directly on Them.

They blinked and were in a small gathering room. Small, but clearly a well loved home. The warmth practically seeped from the walls and Their Spark ached. The green mech turned, his tone dripping with absolute love. “Rung, how many times have I asked you not to sneak— Ah! How did you get in here?!”

They blinked and were sat on a small ledge that could barely be called a balcony. A winged mech sat next to them, glazed optics staring out into the night sky, cygarette of some sort burnt nearly to his digits. Their Spark swam with the ghost of his intoxication. Alchemist shuddered and sat at attention like he hadn’t for any of the previous centuries of births. The mech’s head turned slowly and he smiled at Them. “Well, you’re a new one.”

They blinked and swirled briefly in the Well. _One yet to come_. _They will be strong_.

They blinked and Liege fell back into his own frame. Megatronus’s fans roared and his vents heaved. Vector looked one nanoklik from retreating back into the ether of blank space. Alchemist’s optics were shiny, his forehelm touching Megatronus’s, paint bubbling at the contact, “Oh, little brother. They’re absolutely beautiful. You’ve done so well.”

“A full eight,” Vector murmured, optics staring to the side as if there was a window to see through.

“Filling in our gaps,” Alchemist murmured in kind, “Perfect and beautiful.”

“The femme,” Megatronus’s sobbed, “They have her. They know. She’s in danger.”

“We’ll help,” Liege assured him, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm. His lips burned. “They’ll keep her alive to hunt down the rest. We have time.”

“Divide and conquer.” Alchemist helped Megatronus lay down comfortably. “We’ll find them and help them.”

“Save her,” Megatronus sobbed, “Save them all.”

“We promise,” Liege said.

“Yes,” Vector managed, their voice nearly wasted away to nothing after talking so much more than they were accustomed to.

“Of course.” Alchemist pressed a kiss to Megatronus’s forehelm. “Sleep. Let your spark rest. You created a new life today.”

“Happy birthday,” Vector whispered, before their vocalizer gave way to nothingness. Liege melted away from the room, staring at the dingy walls of the transport ship he was stowed away on. His Spark ached. It had been too long since they’d all been together. 

As together as they could be. 

As _all_ as they could be.

“Happy birthday,” Liege echoed to himself, alone, not knowing what the words meant, only knowing Vector’s certainty that they were the right ones.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl’s frame was unsettled and twitching once more. He poked his optic housing through the bars on his cell, extending as far as he was able to peer at Arcee. “You’re like. A whole baby. You have no idea, huh?”
> 
> “I’m older than you can probably conceive.” Arcee snarled, backing away from the scrutiny to stand against the far wall of her cell.
> 
> “Nah.” Whirl’s unnerving optic didn’t blink or look away, just...saw her. “I’ve been inside Cyc’s memories, I can conceive of pretty fragging old.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: character checks for signs of implied rape/non-con but there is no actual rape/non-con, physical and verbal abuse at the hands of a mentor/teacher, and heed any additional tags that have been added.

Megatron woke with an ache in his chest like he’d spent the night swapping spark light with dozens of mechs. Which was ridiculous. At most he’d maybe gotten torqued enough to merge with Impactor like old days, but Soundwave monitored both of their intakes these days, he remembered all of last night, and there hadn’t been any merging. 

He sat at the edge of his berth and pulled a servo down his face, trying to catch his processes up to the rest of his frame. Light filtered in past the meager, torn shading on the single window in the room. He watched it catch and refract off the little bits of glass on one of the mobiles Frenzy was constantly making. It wasn’t bright, nothing in Kaon was, but it was pretty in its own way. Comforting.

Megatron watched until his communication suite was booted up enough for a text only. ‘ _Soundwave. Did anything strange happen last night?’_

‘ _Negative._ ’ Soundwave’s response was quick and did nothing to quell the worry Megatron was starting to feel.

' _Are you sure?_ ’ Megatron pressed a servo against his chest seam, checking for damage or something more subtle. His digits weren’t especially sensitive, but centuries in Kaon had taught him the signs to look for. There were no dents or bowing on his plating, nor any chips in paint or metal around the seam. He frowned, pressing harder when his spark throbbed painfully.

Megatron looked at the mobile again, catching flashes of pink when the more reflective bits of glass turned their surfaces towards him. He felt an echo, a flash of tired indignation, even more tired acceptance of _knowing things no mech should have to know_. He jumped when Soundwave patched himself through to voice comm, forgoing any politeness of ringing him. “Megatron: Reason for query?”

“I apologize,” Megatron grumbled, then winced. “I awoke with spark pain. I just wanted to double check that I hadn’t done anything stupid.”

Soundwave was silent for long enough that Megatron let his gaze stray back to the mobile. Nothing but flashes of gray and black, and even grayer light. “Megatron: See Ratchet.”

“Soundwave,” Megatron groaned, “I barely have the time.”

“Time: Made. Soundwave: Arranged. Megatron: See Ratchet.” Soundwave’s words brooked no argument. Megatron heaved a sigh, clearing the last of any recharge-musty air from his frame. 

“Fine.” Megatron heaved himself up and out the door. “But I expect some proper compensation for my suffering.”

“Soundwave: Aware.” He answered primly and cut the comm line. Megatron used his laughter to propel him towards the clinic.

\- - - 

“Get out.”

Megatron caught the tin of...hm, energon additive, that was thrown his way, pulling the cloth that covered the clinic entrance more firmly shut. “Hello Ratchet.”

“No,” Ratchet said, not turning to look at him. Megatron walked across the small room to peer over his shoulder, watching him fiddle with a bit of broken machinery, daily ration of energon half finished on the table next to him. Not that there was much ration to begin with, two swallows at most. “Whatever Soundwave is so worried about this time can wait. I’m not dealing with another round of enforcers coming through here to question me about you. They scare off my patients. I’m not your personal medic.”

“You know I want to be in your business even less than you do,” Megatron reasoned, pulling another half ration out of his subspace and placing it next to Ratchet’s elbow.

“Then why do you let that trumped up tape deck run your life?” Ratchet grumbled, but took the ration, turning around to glare at Megatron instead of his tinkering.

“He’s better at it than I am.” Megatron smiled at him, taking in the sallow pallor of Ratchet’s face, dulled paint, twitching digits. He was undoubtedly skipping far too many of his own rations in favor of giving them to his patients. Megatron hummed and pulled his own daily out, pressing it into Ratchet’s twitching fingers. “You need it more than I do.”

“Frag.” Ratchet looked to the side and poured it into his own cube. “I hate it when you use that voice.”

“You just hate not being able to argue.” Megatron chuckled and laid a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Ratchet blustered, and took a shaky sip of energon under Megatron’s gaze. “You downloaded the standard rhetoric and criticism packet and imported the whole thing into your core coding.”

“Be that as it may,” Megatron conceded, just for the curl of pleasure Ratchet’s suspicious look caused. “I do believe that Soundwave may be right to worry in this case.”

“Oh?” Ratchet stood, frame creaking far too much for a mech so young. Megatron followed him into the only other room of the clinic, gesturing to the slab that served as a medberth. Megatron sat, watching Ratchet unearth a well worn, but even more well maintained diagnostic pad from the cabinet in the corner. “What seems to be the problem then?”

“I onlined with spark pain,” Megatron admitted, watching Ratchet’s frame tense. “I didn’t merge with anyone last night. Not only do I remember the whole night, but Soundwave also confirmed. Soundwave also confirmed that I didn’t over-imbibe. He tracks our intake very carefully these days.”

“Yes, well.” Ratchet pressed a servo to his chest plates, optics and digits searching for the same things that Megatron had that morning. Megatron was mollified to see him relax as the examination went on. Nothing untoward then. “Soundwave is probably trying to ensure your continued patronage at the last bar that will have you.”

“Surely there’s another one.” Megatron triggered his chest plate opening at Ratchet’s tap. “I think a new place just opened up near the docking district. Kick’s, or something like that.”

“If it’s in the docking district then no doubt everyone else has already warned them.” Ratchet’s digits prodded at the edges of his corona, pushing past and feeling for the edges of the filaments holding his spark crystal in place. Megatron focused on keeping his vents even. It _hurt_ , and there wasn’t anything remotely arousing about the touch, but there was still an awkwardness to anothers' servos in your chest. “Didn’t you and Impactor destroy an entire _façade_ down there one night?”

“We were merely trying to explain to the proprietor how poorly constructed it was,” Megatron murmured. Ratchet pulled his servos away and watched his spark for a long moment. He grabbed the pad.

“I’m going to take a reading of your cycling rate and brightness for a few kliks,” Ratchet said, “I have an old one I can compare it to.”

“I’m sensing a but.” Megatron sat back and let Ratchet arrange the diagnostic pad to his specifications.

“But,” Ratchet exvented, “I can’t see or feel any reason for spark pain. There’s no signs of any trauma that might have happened that you can’t remember. I trust Soundwave to have accurate recollections of your intake and daily activities. The filaments and crystal look healthy, no brittleness or cracking. Pits, even your cycle and lumens look perfectly alright to the naked optic. I really...I’ll see if the deeper scans come up with anything, but on the surface I can’t see any reason for spark pain.”

“Mm.” Megatron closed his optics, trusting Ratchet and his clinic with his bared spark. “I thought you might say that.”

“Hey.”

Megatron cracked his optics, looking at Ratchet, who, for all his wan face, was steadfast and determined as he met Megatron’s gaze. “Yes?”

“I’m pretty confident in saying that nothing’s wrong.” Ratchet didn’t look away. Megatron’s spark ached for his bravery. “Physically.”

“Ah.” Megatron closed his optics again. “Psychosomatic then.”

“It wouldn’t be that far out of the realm of possibility,” Ratchet said, “Your frame has suffered more than its share of trauma.”

“Wouldn’t the Senate love that,” Megatron murmured, “If I finally went as crazy as they claim I am.”

“Post traumatic stress reactions don’t make you crazy,” Ratchet argued, “If anything I’m shocked they haven’t shown up sooner.”

“I just feel so safe around you.” Megatron quirked one side of his mouth in a smile, knowing Ratchet couldn’t hit him when the scan was running.

“Fragger.” Ratchet’s frame sounds moved away from him. “Close your chest plates up after another four kliks. I’m going back to my real work.”

“Finish your energon.” Megatron called to his retreating footsteps. He heard Ratchet’s muttered _shut up_ and smiled.

His spark throbbed.

\- - -

Minimus onlined to lips on his and a throb in his spark. He pressed into the kiss, pulling back quickly to wince. “It’s too early for a merge, Rung, please.”

“I agree,” Rung laughed, and pressed forward for another kiss. Minimus grimaced and pulled back.

“Then stop,” He said, trying to wriggle his chest further away.

“I’m not?” Rung pulled back and Minimus opened his optics to his puzzled look. “Are you alright?”

Minimus sat up and winced, bringing a servo up to rub at his chest plates. “Primus, that’s— Are you sure?”

“I generally like you awake and aware for that sort of thing, unless we arrange ahead of time.” Rung laid his servo over Minimus’s. “It hurts?”

“Yes?” Minimus tried to find the words to describe it. “Like…remember after our bonding ceremony?”

Rung managed to look sheepish and Minimus leaned forward and kissed him for it. He lifted Rung’s servo from his chest up to his lips to press another kiss to his palm. “It’s a bit like that, I think. But...more?”

“Hmm,” Rung said, “Perhaps you should take a sick day. I’ll see if Ambulon will stop by after our shift.”

“Oh, don’t put him out.” Minimus shifted away and pushed the berth coverings back, standing carefully. “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Min—” Rung started, but cut himself off. Minimus turned to him, pulling Rung forward to kneeling at the edge of the bed in front of him and kissing him.

“Emergencies only,” Minimus murmured, “A little soreness is hardly an emergency.”

“What about that mech you saw last night,” Rung pushed, “Spark soreness and hallucinations could be—”

“I’ll comm you if anything happens.” Minimus kept his face straight as his spark throbbed again and something flickered in the corner of his vision. “But I’m fine.”

\- - -

“ _Focus_ , Drift,” Wing admonished him, a stinging swat landing on his lower back and forcing his posture straighter. “You have the knowledge and Spark necessary at your disposal. The rest is discipline and _focus_.”

“Yes, Wing,” Drift murmured and didn’t open his optics. Opening his optics wasn’t focusing. You didn’t visit or share with your optics. You did it with your Spark. Focus. Focus. Foooocus.

The staff clipped one of his helm fins. Drift didn’t move. Wing grunted, “Good.”

Drift recentered his attention to his spark. It was heavy and throbbing uncomfortably. He slowed his vents and focused on the energy that was his spark, the energy that led to his _Spark_. He tried to let go of conscious thought, just _feel_ the Spark energy, find his clustermates. His frame didn’t matter. His spark didn’t matter. All that mattered was his Spark.

The training room flickered away. Wing flickered away. Drift didn’t open his optics. He kept following the thread, following his Spark, until he felt warmth on his plating, ambient chatter that hadn’t been there before. 

He opened his optics.

The place was strangely...organic, in its immediate design. Drift looked around at the soaring arches on almost every building, the shimmering inlays. He looked down the...road? He thought that was a road, how it curved out of his sightline rather than turned away like the image captures Wing had shown him of Cybertron. Drift was pretty sure this wasn’t Cybertron.

“Nottie,” A voice hissed to his left, he turned and caught the optics of a teal mech with helm spikes to rival his own. The mech smacked his— her? his Spark thrummed the affirmative —her companion. “I’ve got one! Nottie, I wasn’t imagining things, I’ve got a Semblance!”

She was sat at a small table outside what he thought might be a café of some sort with another mech. Drift blinked, and waved back on autopilot when the mech waved at him. He tried to remember everything that Wing had told him about the first few connections. _They will be scared. They will think you a figment of a malfunctioning processor. Do not let them see a medic. Do everything you can to help them through the process, steer them towards acceptance._

She wasn’t scared, or disbelieving though. Her joy matched his own and bubbled through their Spark. Drift found himself smiling wide, wanting to share her laughter. He took a step forward, reaching out to greet her, his Sparkmate, but the world fractured and shattered under his step. Her smile faltered and Drift scrabbled for their Spark, trying to stay. 

He blinked and was back in the training room, step completed in the wrong space. Wing’s staff whistled down and crashed into his outstretched arm, unerringly hitting a sensor cluster and deadening his use of his servo. “Foolish boy. Again.”

Drift didn’t cradle his servo to his aching chest, didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything but step back into position, keeping his back straight. Pink flashed in the corner of his vision before he closed his optics and centered his focus on his spark again.

\- - - 

“He’s gone again.” Velocity groaned and let her helm drop down on the table, “But I saw him! He was there, I swear. He waved at me!”

“I believe you, dummy.” Nautica patted her helm and Velocity attributed her high cycle rate to the appearance of one of her Semblance. “Like, sixty percent of you convincing me was you convincing yourself.”

“I know,” Velocity said into the table, careless of how it warped the words. “You’re a good sounding board.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Nautica laughed. Velocity sat up to better take in the sound. Primus, she was so, so stupid. “How many, do you think?”

“I dunno,” Velocity admitted, pressing at her sore chest. “The first one is supposed to be The Mother, so I’ve really only seen the one so far.”

“A Semblance of two.” Nautica hadn’t stopped laughing. 

Velocity shrugged. “There’ll probably be more. We just have to, ugh, wait, I guess.”

Nautica’s laughter died down to just a grin. “Ah yes, your specialty.”

“Better than you.” Velocity stuck her glossa out and pushed herself to standing, heading back in the direction of the library. She took off running when she heard Nautica’s pedesteps coming up behind her.

\- - -

Starscream kicked his thrusters idly, watching the rising Luna crest the edge of the horizon. The wan glow of the satellite spread weak, artificial light over Protihex, catching on every corner of buildings that had been built quickly higher over the initial structure that now served as an underworld foundation. The whole skyline was jagged and messy, a hasty façade of a beautiful city built on the struts of crime and grime. 

There was something undeniably charming about it. 

His spark throbbed again. He looked away from the skyline and focused back in on the stolen hypoport loaded with a decently strong numbing agent. He inserted it carefully into the cygarette and triggered the administration. He pulled back carefully as it emptied, dispersing the agent through the entirety of the cygarette. 

He tried to ignore the way his digits shook the entire time to limited success. 

He tossed the newly empty hypoport off the side of the balcony, not listening for a landing before he was lifting the doctored cygarette to his lips, fumbling the lighter sitting next to him. The first drag of vapors through his systems lay sticky and heavy on his circuits. Starscream closed his optics and exvented vapor. The throbbing in his chest lessened.

“That’s pretty fraggin’ good,” A voice to his right said. Starscream turned and blinked at the violently pink femme sitting there.

“Huh.” He glanced back at the still burning cygarette, considering it for a moment before shrugging and taking another drag. “Hypoport must have been laced.”

“Sure,” She said, exventing in tandem with him. “Frag, I could kill for one’a those right now.”

“Limited supply.” Starscream smiled tightly, and didn’t offer her a drag. Hallucinations didn’t get cygarettes. Jazz had made the rule after the second time Starscream had handed a lit one into empty space, leaving it to drop onto something flammable. Jazz never said anything stupid or useless about the hallucinations not being real. He just made rules about what Starscream should do with them.

“Don’t I know it.” The femme exvented again. “Who’re you, anyway?”

“Starscream.” He didn’t see any harm in answering. She was all in his processor anyway, it’s not like she didn’t know. At least she was polite, unlike—

He took another deep drag of the cygarette, letting the numbness spread from his internals outward. 

“Arcee.”

“Hm?” Starscream stared at the last sliver of Luna stuck behind a crooked spire sticking out of the skyline like a bent aileron.

“That’s me,” She said, “Since you weren’t asking.”

“Does it matter?” Starscream kept his optics on the spire, didn’t blink.

“Guess not,” Arcee said, “But, I dunno, I’d like it to.”

“Okay,” Starscream said, not in any agreement, but just because it seemed like the thing to do. They were both quiet. He watched the spire until his optics burned, but Luna clung stubbornly to the last bit of shadow tethering her to Cybertron.

He blinked and when his optics were open again she’d broken free, rising in the sky unheeded.

\- - -

Prowl didn’t look up as the datapad landed on his desk from an irresponsibly thrown distance. He kept his optics on the report he was finishing, double checking every aspect of the form before sending it off and sitting back. He met Barricade’s gaze, matched the cruel mirth on his face with blankness. “Was there something you needed?”

“Got a new case for you.” Barricade’s voice was one of the deepest Prowl had ever heard on another mech, but it didn’t stop it from being absolutely grating.

“Did you?” Prowl didn’t so much as twitch. “How thoughtful.”

Prowl slid the datapad across his desk just close enough that he could see the screen and thumbed it on. It was absolutely blank. Factory settings still fresh. He flicked his optics back up to Barricade and arched an optical ridge. “Is that all?”

Barricade huffed and rolled his optics. “Such a slagging downer. Ain’t even fun to prank, ugh.”

He stalked away and Prowl pushed the datapad away, pulling one with actual case information towards him. His spark sent another wave of pain through his frame, making his doorwings twitch. He sighed softly and didn’t press a servo to his chest. 

It really was just gelling on the oil cake that his spark was paining him. The entire precinct was still running the gamut of gossip over his hallucination the day previous. Several theories had been spouted already, including him finally succumbing to a processor breakdown, a bug in his TACNET, and an honest to goodness sparkghost. Prowl was already under scrutiny from all sides and it wouldn’t do to show any sort of weakness now.

His spark threw off another painful cycle and Prowl quietly sorted through his contacts for a decent medic. He was just about to send a request for an appointment when a sly voice murmured in his audial, “No medics.”

Prowl didn’t jump. Only from vorn of training. He turned his helm slowly. 

There...was no one there.

Frustrated, he darted his optics around the room, assessing who was close enough to have whispered in his audial then retreated. Everyone in the room was either too heavy to move that fast or too far away. His desk was generally given a wide berth. He turned back to his desk, pulling the datapad close again. 

He deleted the appointment request. He needn’t waste his time with a medic. It wasn’t anything serious, nor did he need the whispering any word of his visit would bring. He fed the problem to his TACNET, letting it work through all the potential causes of spark pain while he worked.

\- - -

Arcee online again with a sigh, wondering how she’d managed to nod off.

The cell had no real berth. The cell had _nothing_ , excepting her new frame. She wasn’t sure if that was a step up or down from cold storage. The frame was very…

“Primus, that’s just optic-searing femme.” Her across the hall neighbor called as soon as he clocked that she was awake. “I mean, truly, I only got the one, could you turn it down a little?”

“I had about as much choice in my frame as you did,” She said sweetly, lifting her helm so he could see the snarl accompanying the words. He wasn’t fazed whatsoever. Whirl’s yellow optic brightened, seemingly delighted at any kind of engagement.

“No, no.” Whirl lifted his arms and flexed his claws, giving his frame a deliberate wiggle. “This was all intentional. Very top of the line. cosmetic empurata is all the rage these days.”

Arcee snorted. Whirl’s optic took on a curious cant. She wasn’t sure how he managed to get these things across, but she was reluctantly impressed and she wasn’t particularly easy to impress. “Did ya go somewhere nice?”

“Hm?” Arcee stretched a little, cables cramped from her nap sitting up against the wall.

“Where you just visited,” Whirl said, like this made any sense at all.

“I was sleeping,” Arcee said, tone flat, “I had a dream. Is that what you mean?”

“Uh.” Whirl’s optic flicked away, to the cell next to hers she was pretty sure. She didn’t know who was in there, they hadn’t spoken a word or made a noise at all yet. Whirl looked a little lost. “Cyc?”

A soft, deep voice rumbled in the hallway. Arcee could just barely pick up the words. “Where were you before these charming accommodations, madame?”

“I—” Arcee rubbed at her chest plates, hating the heavy throb there. She wasn’t sure her spark was settling into this new frame well. “Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” The voice said, surprisingly smooth considering the quality of the energon that had been drone-delivered to them this morning. “Tell me, did you see a strange mech recently? Like a flicker. One moment they were there and the next gone.”

“Seen a lotta weird mechs the past couple cycles,” Arcee grumbled, forcing herself to stand and walk the perimeter of her cell. She felt jumpy and...numb. There was a ghost of numbness in her internals.

“Just two, hm?” The voice asked. Arcee cursed.

“Cold storage,” She said, catching hold of that numbness and letting it spread to her lips. Whirl looked on, completely still. It sat strangely on his frame, almost like it didn’t belong to him and he was just borrowing it for the moment. “Just a spark in a box for who knows how long until yesterday.”

“That explains how they found you so fast,” The voice murmured, then shifted to a subtle warmth, “Thank you Whirl.”

“Anytime, sweetcheeks.” Whirl’s frame was unsettled and twitching once more. He poked his optic housing through the bars on his cell, extending as far as he was able to peer at Arcee. “You’re like. A whole baby. You have no idea, huh?”

“I’m older than you can probably conceive.” Arcee snarled, backing away from the scrutiny to stand against the far wall of her cell.

“Nah.” Whirl’s unnerving optic didn’t blink or look away, just...saw her. “I’ve been inside Cyc’s memories, I can conceive of pretty fragging old.”

\- - - 

“Rung, I’m fine. I feel much better, I promise.” A voice murmured, one not Wing’s or belonging to anyone who could conceivably be near him. Drift followed the tug of his Spark and opened his optics in a small room. Home? Everything was so close together to be nearly cramped, but somehow...wasn’t. A small kitchenette was open to the gathering area and an even smaller entrance alcove. Drift turned his head and looked curiously into an open doorway, catching sight of a carefully made berth. He turned back to the green mech that was speaking into some sort of external comm unit. “No, please, don’t bother Ambulon. It’s barely a flutter anymore.”

Drift watched with some interest as the words were accompanied by a wince and a hand on his chest plate, but his voice betrayed nothing. He glanced down, but being here felt more...solid than he had before so he chanced a step. The ground stayed under him, and the mech was still there. Drift shuffled closer to him. “Yes. Yes, I know. I do appreciate your concern, but I’m _fine_. Yes. No, I can make something. See you at home. I love you, too.”

The mech hung up the apparatus and leaned his head against the wall, venting unevenly. Drift considered his options, but before he could think— “You’re lying.”

“Oh, for—!” The mech whirled around, and stared at Drift for a second before closing his optics tightly. “You’re not real. Not real. Just go away.”

“Sorry,” Drift said, scuffing his pede along the carpet. He’d never seen carpet before. It was soft. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you or anything.”

The mech didn’t answer. Drift tried, “I’m Drift.”

“You have names now,” The mech muttered, “That’s just fantastic.”

“I mean, I think I’m pretty okay.” Drift grinned. “But fantastic works too.”

“Ugh.” The mech opened his optics and gave Drift the most scathing look he’d ever been on the receiving end of, and he’d gotten some doozies from Wing back when his training first started. The mech turned his back on Drift and went into the kitchenette.

Drift took the opportunity to peruse the holo-images and art decorating nearly every inch of the walls. Like the furniture in the apartment though, none of it seemed crowded or too much. Just...enough to feel like...home. He stopped in front of a holo-image of the mech with another small, thin mech painted entirely orange. They were both looking at each other rather than whoever was capturing the image, entirely rapt with each other’s optics. Something in Drift twinged with longing as he looked on their captured smiles, and he felt more than saw a flicker of pink out of the corner of his optics.

Ah, not his own longing then. And wow, he couldn’t wait to tell Wing he’d gotten three of them together, even for just a nanoklik.

“What’s your name?” Drift called, moving on to a piece of art that kind of looked like one of the places Wing had shown him pictures of, just more...wibbly. And red. He turned back when the mech didn’t answer. 

“You have names, cheek, and you’re stupid,” The mech said, toneless, pouring some small measure of energon into an actual glass.

“I—” Drift couldn’t understand the hurt that flashed through him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been called worse. But this was...this was his clustermate, part of his Spark, saying such things. They were supposed...they were supposed to love and support each other. They _were_ each other. Drift swallowed. “I just...wanted to know. Sorry.”

The mech sighed and took a sip of his energon, staring down at it. “Minimus.”

Drift brightened. “Minimus. I like it.”

“Thank you,” Minimus answered, like he couldn’t understand why he was doing so.

Drift thought for a moment, then looked around again. “I like your home too. It’s...comfortable. In a good way.”

“It’s ours,” Minimus said, warmth finally seeping back into his tone. Drift wandered back towards the kitchenette and Minimus.

“Was that who you were talking to earlier?” Drift very carefully did not say ‘lying to.’ Minimus shrugged. Drift played back the conversation in his head. “You can’t see a medic. It’s not safe.”

“Ah,” Minimus tossed back the rest of the energon. Drift thought he could feel it burning its way down to his tank. It wasn’t a sensation he was at all familiar with. “You’re a terribly obvious subconscious projection, you know?”

Drift tried to say, “I’m not—” tried to say, “Don’t see a medic—” tried to say anything comforting or helpful, but it seemed that Minimus’s dismissal was enough to send him away completely. Drift gasped as the room melted away back to his training room and Wing, looking on in disapproval. Drift grasped at the thrum of their Spark, the one that was fear, was _medics aren’t safe. isn’t safe. keep him safe_ , and tried to vent.

\- - - 

“They’re raidin’ the Helex settlement in the next quartex, Boss.” Rumble swung his pedes where they didn’t reach the floor. Megatron knew better— Soundwave had all but beaten it into him —but he still ached at something like a sparkling at war.

It wasn’t war yet, but...he knew how these things progressed.

“We’ll send some of the newer ones to help move them.” Megatron waited for Soundwave to nod. “Impactor, would you be willing to brief and accompany them as far as you’re able?”

“Course,” Impactor scoffed, but Megatron knew he’d be glad of the reason to leave, to _move_. As much as their base of operations was what kept them safe, it also had a tendency to make them feel trapped more often than not.

Megatron focused back in on the twins, “Anything else?”

“Some weird movemen’ down in the Freezer.” Frenzy mumbled around the digits in his mouth. Megatron’s spark throbbed and something flickered in the corner of his optic. “Couldn’ ge’ close enough to see wha’.”

That heralded nothing well. The cold storage facility was one of the few places in Cybertron so well guarded that none of their combined efforts could get them close to it. According to Senate reports the mechs that were sentenced to cold storage were complete and utter psychopaths, unwilling and unable to contribute to society. To serve a purposeful, valuable function. 

According to Senate reports, Megatron was nothing more than a terrorist working for the downfall of that very society. He was rather interested in the other sparks condemned for their supposed actions. Sparks that existed outside their “purposeful, valuable function.”

“Hm.” Megatron brushed a servo over both Rumble and Frenzy’s helms. “Thank you.”

With another nod from Soundwave they both scampered off. Megatron watched them go, ignoring the pain in his spark. Psychosomatic indeed. Soundwave walked up and stood to his left. Impactor mirrored him on the right. They all three stared down at the map that had been scored into the table top. Impactor grunted, “Don’t look good.”

Megatron sighed. “I know. I know. If we just—”

“Negative,” Soundwave said, with the tired certainty of an often, but barely won argument. 

“You’ll let me one day,” Megatron said. He wouldn’t.

“Negative,” Impactor mocked. He meant it though. Megatron shook his helm.

“Either way we—” He cut himself off, blinking at the mech on the other side of the table. He didn’t disappear. “Pardon me?”

“Fascinating,” The mech said and— Oh. Slag.

“Impactor,” Megatron said tightly, and the mech’s optics flicked upwards, taking in the three of them. “What was the name of the arresting enforcer that picked you up that last time?”

“Uh.” Megatron could feel Impactor’s optics on his face, trying to understand why this was even remotely pertinent. “Prowl, or something like that.”

“Right.” Megatron blinked again. “Does anyone else see Enforcer Prowl across the table from me?”

“Megatron?” Soundwave’s tone was flat as ever, but Megatron could read the concern there.

“Ah, so I see Impactor lived.” Prowl’s voice was flatter even than Soundwave’s filters, optics flicking across the map, around the room, and back to the three of them. Megatron backed up, looking between Prowl and his most trusted. “We had been wondering about that.”

“How are you here?” Megatron asked. “How did you get in?”

Prowl frowned. Not that Megatron thought he had much further to go to reach the expression. “I—”

Megatron blinked and he disappeared. He stumbled back until he hit the wall, still staring at the spot that Prowl had been in. Impactor was by his side in an instant, supporting him as he slid to the floor. Soundwave’s gaze was distant for a moment, then sharpened. “Megatron: Must go immediately. Ratchet: Has sent summons. Status: Urgent.”

\- - -

Velocity stretched, wincing at her tensile materials popped and unknotted. She focused in on her HUD, and an alert from Nautica from four groon ago blinked.

‘ _SIT UP STRAIGHT LOSER :) <3_’

Velocity grinned and stretched again. The library was quiet around her, just the whisper of other mech’s frames humming while they found new knowledge. The sections she needed were small, but it was still one of her favorite places. 

She blinked, and there was a mech sitting across from her. Not just a mech. _The_ mech. The Mother. Velocity jumped. “I— Hello.”

“Hello.” The Mother’s optics were far away, burning bright with otherworldly fire.

“You’re The— My. Mother.” Velocity stuttered out. She wanted to disappear into the floor. Ugh.

“I suppose.” The Mother flickered slightly, like flames. “Where are we?”

“The library,” Velocity said. And promptly dropped her head on to the desk. “Sorry, I mean Caminus. We’re on Caminus.”

“Oh...a colony.” The Mother’s digits hovered over her helm. “Safe, then.”

“Yes?” Velocity looked up. She felt something like fear brush her processor. “Oh. Yes, I’m safe. Semblances are...sacred.”

“You know?” The Mother focused back in on her, looking more solid than he had the entire visit.

“Of course! The Magna, Pyra, is part of a Semblance, and she made sure that everyone knew that they were something to be celebrated.” Velocity’s voice got smaller and smaller as The Mother’s gaze never strayed from her, as she felt his incredulity in her spark.

“Pyra…” His gaze strayed to something she couldn’t see, “One of yours?”

Velocity watched while The Mother conversed with someone that wasn’t showing themselves. He was so much larger than any mech she’d seen on Caminus, heavy plating that seemed like...too much. It carried badly on his frame, he looked like he was bending under the weight. There was also...the fire. His optics burned with it, his paint bubbled, and his plating seemed to warp and retract with it.

She chewed her lip. “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”

The Mother turned his burning optics back to her. “I’m sorry. I’m Megatronus.”

“Megatronus,” Velocity murmured, then smiled. “Nice to meet you. I’m Velocity. Can I ask you another question?”

Megatronus’s smile was small, but there. “Of course.”

“How many?” Velocity couldn’t help but let her curiosity get the better of her. Nautica always said it was the reason she was her only friend. “The Magna says they vary in size.”

“Ah. She was a part of that cluster of five, yes?” Megatronus turned his helm to the unseen visitor once more. Velocity waited, all but vibrating in her desire for the knowledge. Megatronus’s smile disappeared. “A tragedy, yes brother. I’m sorry. You, my dear, are one of eight.”

“Eight,” Velocity vented. “I’ve seen one so far. I’ll...have to keep track.”

“You will see six others.” Megatronus turned burning optics back to her, and it was almost too much. “One is yet to be brought forth from the Well. But they are strong. You are strong. A full eight…”

His voice trailed off. Velocity felt pride and fear war in her throat, the fear winning and taking hold. She reached out and brushed a servo over top of Megatronus’s. He jumped, and the fear grew stronger in her. His servo was pleasantly warm, despite the appearance of burning. She took it in her own, laying her free one over top of it. “I’m safe.”

“Yes,” Megatronus sighed with his entire frame, optics still ravaged with flame but...softer, as they looked at her with some kind of wonder. “You are. You all will be.”

\- - -

“You are remarkably open to visitation,” A voice commented to his left. Starscream let his helm fall to the side, tearing his optics away from the swirling lights of twirling and diving seekers on the ceiling.

“Oh?” Starscream didn’t particularly care. It was an interesting day at least. None of the usual— 

“Yes.” The mech frowned. He wasn’t one that Starscream had seen before. He didn’t seem too terribly interested in yelling at Starscream though, so he thought he’d listen for the moment. “I’ve seen many new clusters born in my time, and you...you’re just…”

“I’m just.” Starscream agreed gravely, and turned back to watch the seekers on the ceiling. One red light shot before the rest, twisting and flipping, outrunning the two blue and purple—

“That,” The mech said. Starscream closed his optics against the dizzying tide of memories that threatened to get too close. “Your spark _reaches_ in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re practically pulling your cluster to you. How many have you seen now?”

“I see so many mechs all the time.” Starscream sighed. The lights kept playing out behind his optics. “I’m not supposed to go places they tell me to. I’m not supposed to share cygarettes. I’m supposed to tell Jazz when they’re here.”

Starscream didn’t hear the mech move but, well, sometimes they didn’t make noise beyond screaming at him. He did hear the front door slide open. “Hey baby, where ya at tonight?”

“In here,” Starscream called back. He listened to the sliding shuffle of Jazz’s steps, off-rhythm in a way that always sounded deliberate. Keeping you off guard, never knowing just how perfectly he could move. Starscream let his head fall towards the door on the right, opening his optics and dredging up a smile. Jazz was smiling back. “There’s someone here.”

“Oh?” Jazz shuffle-sway-stepped up to the berth, dropping down to lay half on Starscream. He pressed a kiss to Starscream’s cockpit and propped his chin there. “Anyone I know?”

“No.” Starscream turned back to look at the mech who was still watching him, a slight frown on his face. “I don’t know him either. There’s a lot of new ones today.”

“Have they introduced themselves?” Jazz pressed another kiss to his cockpit and Starscream felt something tighten in his spark. 

“One did.” He tried to locate his arms, the servos attached to them. He wanted to pull Jazz’s kisses up to his lips. “Her name was Arcee.”

“Her, huh?” Jazz tapped a syncopated rhythm against Starscream’s plating. “That who’s here now?”

“No, there’s another new—” Starscream looked left and frowned. “Or...he’s gone. He never told me his name.”

“Does that mean we’re alone now, babe?” Jazz levered himself up and finally brought his mouth exactly where Starscream wanted it.

\- - -

“Cyclonus of Tetrahex.” Arcee vented, shaking off the veil meditation pulled over his processor, bringing herself back to fully aware. She looked to the wall that they shared. “I know you.”

“Do you?” Cyclonus’s voice rumbled out into the hallway, and in the corner of her optic Whirl went unnaturally still once more.

“Yes.” Arcee tilted her helm, trying to see through the wall. “Well. I know of you. I’m a little surprised they’ve managed to keep you.”

“I’m over here.” It was still Cyclonus’s voice, but Whirl’s frame is the one that waved. She stared. Whirl shrugged, and moved with uncommon grace to drape himself against the bars, looking at her. She couldn’t understand why his gaze was so unnerving. “I don’t believe you’ve properly introduced yourself though. Don’t think I haven’t been listening.”

Arcee watched Whirl carefully. He didn’t so much as shiver or twitch. She glanced back to the wall for a moment, then met Whirl’s optic. “Arcee.”

“Of?” Whirl’s optic didn’t waver. That was it, she realized. Whirl’s optic was entirely blank. None of the effusion he always managed to imbue it with. 

She held his gaze. “The Darklands.”

“Oh, you are _old_ aren’t you?” Another voice said _in her cell_. She snapped her helm around, putting the wall at her back so she could keep Whirl in her periphery. The other voice was attached to a mech as green as she was pink, with horns. Great.

“Maximo?” Cyclonus’s voice was shocked.

“Not now, Daddy’s talking.” The mech waved a servo in Whirl’s direction, but his optics stayed on Arcee.

“Daddy?” She raised an unimpressed optic ridge.

Liege Maximo shrugged, an odd gesture laid over what fragmented memories of him she had. “Not the faintest of what it means, but it pisses Vector off when I say it.”

“Right.” Arcee glared at him. “How did you get in here?”

“I’m not actually here.” Liege shrugged again. “And since dear old Cyclonus over there said my name, I’m on a tight time limit, but we promised to keep you safe. I’ve been keeping an optic on you, but I simply had to introduce myself. Arcee of the Darklands. Leave it to Megatronus.”

“You’re a myth.” Cyclonus murmured. “You can’t possibly be Arcee of the Darklands. She isn’t _real_.”

“In the mesh.” Arcee muttered darkly.

“It’s true.” Liege vented carefully. “It’s in her spark. You may not be mine, but you’re a full eight. We can feel your Spark.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Ah,” Liege looked around at nothing, “Best not to mention the full eight thing. Very dangerous. That goes for you two as well.”

He disappeared between one moment and the next. Arcee blinked and flicked her optics back to Whirl. “The frag?”

Liege flickered back into place behind her again. “Ah, sorry, just. Tailgate says hello. I’ll try and visit again.”

The silence stretched even longer that time. Whirl finally broke it. “Son of a glitch.”


	3. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finally stood, and followed the light to a connecting room. Tailgate didn’t look surprised to see him, nor did he move when Liege sat next to him. “You shouldn’t have taught them to block us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this interlude!

Liege ran a servo down his face, staring unseeing at the wall of his newest bolthole. The silence of the prison melted away and the muffled chatter of the organic market beyond his walls filtered back in. Right.

Cyclonus had been a fun shock. Not only Cyclonus, but Whirl too. Liege...had perhaps been neglecting his own birthed cluster. He took another moment to vent, idly listening to someone haggle for a lower price before tuning back into his Spark and following the weak lines that were tethered there. 

He closed his optics and opened them again to a dark berthroom, two mechs tangled up in each other. His spark ached for an entirely different reason. Right. That was why. Liege knelt next to the berth and smoothed a servo over a red helm, “Hey there Roddy.”

“Mm.” Rodimus’s plating shivered, even in recharge. He pulled away from Liege’s touch, curling further into Brainstorm, who also didn’t wake, merely tucked Rodimus closer to him. Liege watched them a moment longer, indulging in a safer version of the despair that regularly threatened to pull him under. 

He finally stood, and followed the light to a connecting room. Tailgate didn’t look surprised to see him, nor did he move when Liege sat next to him. “You shouldn’t have taught them to block us.”

“Yes, I should have.” Liege said softly, pulling Tailgate in to lean against him. Tailgate collapsed sideways, like all his hydraulics lost their pressure at once. “It’s to keep you safe, little bit.”

“Safe feels an awful lot like sad,” Tailgate mumbled. Liege’s spark ached, both in empathy and admiration of Tailgate’s bravery.

“I know, little bit. I know.” Liege sighed. “Why don’t you go cuddle up and recharge with the other two?”

“Not tired.” Tailgate said, but his frame wilted with obvious exhaustion. He admitted. “Not the same.”

Liege weighed the options in front of him, and couldn’t help but take the one that he wished he had. “I saw them. Just now. They look...as well as they can be.”

It was true. Whirl always looked like...Whirl, but his optic had been bright and curious. Cyclonus had been still and shocked, but his color was still relatively vibrant, frame still held ready for a fight. They hadn’t given up. He hoped they never would.

Tailgate sat up and stared at him. Liege did his best not to fidget. He was the creator here, after all. “But you never visit. Why did you visit them? If you visited them, can I visit? I thought it wasn’t safe!”

“Shh.” Liege tugged Tailgate back into his side. “I wasn’t visiting them, exactly. They just happened to be there. It isn’t safe but...I promised my little brother.”

Tailgate shook in his arms. Liege took the chance and picked him up, taking him back to the berthroom with Rodimus and Brainstorm. He found a place between Brainstorm’s wings and the wall, tucking Tailgate carefully in and making sure he was covered. “You, of all mechs, little bit, should know how strong a promise to a little brother is.”

Tailgate’s optic band dimmed slowly, the heat from his berthmates no doubt sinking into his plating and making his exhaustion catch up with him quicker. Liege turned to leave but a small voice stopped him. “Tell them...tell them that I said hello.”

Liege glanced over his shoulder at the pile of misshapen mechs under a thin berth covering. His spark ached, and the echo of soft, freely given laughter rushed through him. “Of course dear.”

He turned his Spark to Arcee once more.

He had a message to deliver.


	4. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why—?” Starscream let himself be kissed again, but his processor had latched on and wouldn’t let go. He pulled back and mumbled against Jazz’s mouth, “Why only a half shift?”
> 
> “Dunno.” Jazz’s digits were clever across his plating, and Starscream was ready to sink into the feeling when a voice that didn’t belong to the energon soaked mech behind Jazz spoke.
> 
> “He’s lying.” Starscream froze up, staring at Jazz. The voice sounded confused. “But not...it’s a protect you sort of lie. He’s scared of something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY LADS ITS ALL KICKING OFF NOW
> 
> Warnings: more abuse at the hands of a teacher/mentor, government corruption and functionism, some spark sexual interfacing and spark interface sex work, PLEASE HEED THE VIOLENCE AND MINOR CHARACTER DEATH TAGS

“Soundblaster’s acting up out in Protihex again.” Impactor watched carefully as Ratchet bustled around the room, hooking Megatron up to all matter of equipment that neither of them recognized. Megatron let him. He’d never been summoned by Ratchet before, all but the opposite, and that combined with his out of character reticence had Megatron engaging in his own out of character biddability. 

“Of course,” Megatron murmured, lifting an arm for Ratchet’s access to one of his abdominal ports. “I’m sure he hasn’t mentioned why.”

“More energon, less restrictions, et cetera.” Impactor shrugged, optics still caught on Ratchet. Megatron let himself feel a little bit amused. “He’s still running boosters and numb-ers down there.”

“I know,” Megatron vented slowly. Ratchet plugged something in.

“I’m sure you’re well fragging aware,” Impactor scoffed, grinning when Ratchet looked up to offer him a paltry glare. “What I’m not sure of is why you’re still giving that turborat any of your time.”

Megatron closed his vents and tried not to wince when the machine Ratchet hooked him up to started humming, and coding not his own prodded at his firewalls. Why indeed? Soundblaster had seemed like a good ally at the beginning. Most of their ways into various cities were through the mechs acting outside the law, doing anything they could to achieve the lives they wanted. When living against your function was against the law, it meant they worked with a lot of criminals.

Soundblaster, this far in, had proved to be little more than an _actual_ criminal, albeit one with ambition.

“Who else do we have in Protihex?” Megatron finally said, “Who else could we spare to send? We’re stretched thin enough as it is.”

“I don’t like him,” Impactor muttered. Ratchet watched Megatron for a moment, then turned back to the machine, checking its output.

“I don’t either.” Megatron admitted, then vented carefully. “We can’t spare any energon, but...we’ll look the other way on some of his more unsavory pursuits. Tell him that the enforcers are likely to be busy with the planned Helex raid. Make it sound like our optics will be turned that way entirely as well.”

“Fine.” Impactor spared one last look at Ratchet before nodding at Megatron and making for the door.

“Sound like.” Ratchet said gruffly, once Impactor was gone.

“It would be foolish to truly allow Soundblaster even a nanomechanometer. He’ll take it and run halfway to Luna.” Megatron closed his optics and reclined more comfortably on the slab. Relatively more comfortably. “It doesn’t matter right now. I do believe my oldest friend is sweet on you, medic.”

“Shut up.” Ratchet managed to make his voice that much gruffer. “Explain to me how working with some mech that pushes boosters is going to help you.”

“Have you ever been to Protihex, Ratchet?” Megatron pulled up the few memory files he had of the place to view on his internal HUD.

“No.” Ratchet admitted. “Forged in Iacon, studied in Nova Cronum, ended up here. Closest I’ve ever gotten was working the relief efforts in Praxus.”

“Protihex is…” Megatron struggled for words for a moment, then a voice finished for him. In tandem with him. “A pit of a city with an even worse underbelly.”

Megatron snapped his optics open and saw a disheveled seeker sat on top of a shelf that in no way was weight bearing. He was a faded, rusty red, the sort of color one obtained from malnutrition and quick program use. Megatron thought he could see bits of blue paint across his frame, but blue disappeared quicker than most colors when paint nanites were being consumed for self repair. “Ah. Ratchet, it appears I’m having another episode.”

“I can tell.” Ratchet’s optics roved over the machine output. “Keep having it.”

“Hello,” Megatron called to the seeker, who turned faraway, nearly white optics on him. Boosters then. For the moment. Almost as soon as he thought it, a facsimile of the artificial energy jolted through his frame, from his spark outward. “How do you know Protihex?”

Unsure of how it was happening, Megatron spoke aloud with the seeker, perfectly in unison. “I live there now. Didn’t use to. Thought it was a better place to be.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever referred to Protihex as _better_.” Megatron smiled at him. The seeker smiled back, and this time he spoke on his own.

“Better for me. Better for what happens around me.” The seeker smiled, an inane, far away expression. “You’re much nicer than the usual mechs I see. Do you have a name? You’ve all had names lately.”

“Megatron. And I have practice.” Megatron said. “My friend has symbiotes that make me be nice to them. Do _you_ have a name?”

“I’m Starscream. But you should know that.” The seeker giggled, and it was closer to sounding like a sparkling than any of Soundwave’s minis ever got. Megatron’s spark throbbed. He sobered quickly. “Symbiotes should steer clear of Protihex.”

“They’re fully mature, tethered to another spark though they may be.” Megatron took in Starscream’s frame once more. “Should you have steered clear of Protihex?”

“Probably.” Starscream shrugged, and his thrusters swang idly, “It’s a terrible maze of filth and iniquity. That’s what TC—”

He closed his mouth abruptly. Megatron felt what he could only describe as _grief_ rend his spark and then Starscream disappeared. “Ah.”

“Open your chest plates.” Megatron startled, still staring at the space where Starscream had been. He hadn’t realized Ratchet was so close. Megatron complied, ruminating on what he’d just heard. Ratchet’s digits prodded once more at his corona, filaments, daring to brush carefully over his crystal itself. “That’s...impossible. You should be in spark failure. There’s no way the structure can handle that much energy output, let alone the rest of your frame.”

“I’m sensing a but,” Megatron murmured, not quite listening. His processor still whirred, trying to connect the problems that were the mess that Protihex continued to present and Starscream, who, for some reason, he was entirely certain was _real_ and needed _help_. There was...something there. Just out of reach.

“But you’re _alive_.” Ratchet growled, poking at his spark still. Megatron was preoccupied enough that it almost didn’t register. “Alive and-and perfectly functioning! I can’t find anything wrong, but your energy signatures are completely different from what they used to be, and you just had a massive output surge, with no evidence of it happening!”

“That seems like good news.” Megatron said, still distracted. There was something. Something about Soundblaster…

Unbidden, a memory file that he knew, he _knew_ wasn’t his, played back. Through a haze of numb-ers, optics that weren’t his watched a small black and white mech talking with Soundblaster. The optics blinked and unfocused, refocused, just enough for Megatron to catch the exchange of credits between the two mechs. Megatron blinked his own optics out the memory file.

“Jazz.” He said. Then. “What?”

\- - -

“I spy with my single optic…something...grey.” 

“It’s the walls.” Arcee didn’t bother looking away from the ceiling. There was a smudge there she was convinced looked like Whirl. She tilted her helm. Yeah. If she unfocused her optics just a little bit.

“Clever a guess, but alas. Yer wrong.” Whirl sounded utterly chipper and Arcee wasn’t sure what to do with him. Her spark thrummed, something soft and fluttering on the edge of it. She ignored it. “Come on, gimme another.”

“The floor.” Arcee closed her optics to see if she could maybe recharge.

“Nope!” Whirl said. “I made it really hard this time.”

“Is it...Cyclonus’s spark?” Arcee opened her optics again. The smudge didn’t change.

“Now, that is uncalled for.” Cyclonus grumbled.

Whirl’s optic housing leaned over her face. “Good guess.”

“What the _frag_!” Arcee yelped and rolled off her berth, pressing her back to the corner. Whirl was in her cell. He was also in his cell. “How are you doing that?!”

“It’s visiting.” Whirl’s optic housing tilted. “That’s something we can do. It’s why we’re here.”

“The frag do you mean _we_?” Arcee caught the soft flutter at the edge of her spark again, focusing on it until her own spark cycling had calmed.

“What is _happening_?” A new voice asked.

“For _frag’s_ sake,” Arcee growled, looking at the second mech that was now in her cell. “Who the frag are you?”

“Whirl, duh. You okay?” Whirl’s optic curled up. Arcee narrowed her optics at him, and deliberately shifted her gaze.

“No.” The mech was small, and a much softer green than Liege. He was also slightly hysterical. “This isn’t happening. This is an incredibly elaborate hallucination and I’m starting to think that I should take Rung up on his offer to bring a medic home because clearly— clearly! —there is something wrong with me.”

Arcee stared. “You really didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh!” Whirl started, an action that looked very similar to a three car alt pile up. “You’ve got your own visitor. Who is it? Are they cute?”

The mystery mech spun to stare at Whirl. “Oh Primus. There really _is_ something wrong with me.”

“Hey.” Arcee clicked her digits until the mech looked at her. “Name. Now.”

“Minimus.” He blinked at her. “ _Why_ do I keep _introducing myself_ to my _subconscious hallucinations_?”

“Probably because it’s polite.” Arcee shrugged. “Whirl. What the frag is going on?”

“I can’t deal with babies anymore. Hey Cyc! I’m off baby duty forever after this one!” Whirl rolled his optic. “Right. You’re part of a cluster Spark. Buncha mechs all sharing one Spark. You can visit and share. This is visiting. We can visit because we seen each other, right? But we’re not in the same cluster. The other mech in here, I’m assuming, is parta your cluster Spark, owing to the fact that I ain’t seein’ them and you ain’t been around a whole lot before being born and all.”

Arcee blinked. She saw Minimus doing the same. Whirl shrugged. “I dunno what to tell ya. The only important rules are Don’t Tell and No Medics.”

Arcee raised an optic ridge. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you turn that Rung down on that medic offer.”

“You’re the second hallucination to tell me that and I’m honestly not sure if I can trust you as reliable sources at this point.” Minimus said faintly.

“Medics are a pretty quick slide to a cell here,” Whirl said, suddenly serious. “That’s how I got caught. Don’t...don’t see a medic.”

Arcee watched what little color Minimus’s face plates carried drain away. She shrugged. “Arcee.”

“Pardon?” Minimus backed up to the wall and slid down it to sit.

“I figure fair is fair. I’m Arcee.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t tempt fate. It sucks in here. The company sucks.”

“Hey!” Whirl called, no longer in her cell, back to only his own.

She ignored him. “Who’s Rung?”

“My conjunx.” Minimus said faintly. Arcee considered this. It made...sense, actually. She was pretty good at patterns.

“You should…” She cycled her intake. “Let him take care of you. No medics but. Yeah. Let him take care of you.”

“I always do.” Minimus said, and Arcee could tell that he didn’t even think before he said it. Her spark thrummed. It was warm. She dropped her helm back against the corner, closing her optics.

“You should get out of here and let him do that then.”

\- - - 

Drift fell forward, catching himself on his servos.

His vents heaved, fans spinning at full. Energon dripped from a tear in the dermal metal near his mouth. He closed his optics, took a moment to re-center his trembling frame. Wing’s staff crashed down against his back. “Stand up. Again.”

Drift cycled his intake. His struts ached. His hydraulic pressure was down. He was sure if he ran a diagnostic that his tensile materials would be overstretched, if not torn in a few places. 

He didn’t want to stand up, go again.

His left elbow joint buckled. He caught himself and forced himself back to his pedes, facing Wing once more. He didn’t have a weapon. Wing had explained. “You have to be ready to work with _nothing_. You have to be ready to protect your Spark with nothing but your frames.”

Wing lunged forward again, staff going for the newly discovered weak spot under Drift’s left elbow joint. He took the hit to his side, lifting his elbow out of the way. Risk calculation. Yes, his abdominal plating was softer, more likely to bend under the force of the blow, but if he blocked with his elbow joint it was almost certain to knock out his sensory suite from there down. He’d be left without a left arm.

He dropped, letting the staff slide up, snapping his arm down to grip it against his side. He twisted his hips, using the momentum to bring his right palm around, striking the staff as hard as he could in the empty space between him and Wing. The staff, being pieces that came together as whole rather than one solid piece of metal, snapped under his servo. Drift didn’t slow, spinning and dropping down, ducking his helm under the bit of staff that Wing was still holding, stopping finally in a crouch out of Wing’s reach.

Or, so he thought. The jagged end of the Wing’s staff swiped across his line of vision, and a bloom of heat tore across the dermal metal just under his left optic. Drift reared back, and fell out of his crouch onto his aft. Wing’s pede pressed lightly on his abdominal plating, jagged staff end resting over his chest plating. “You’re still favoring your right side. Your left was consistently open.”

Drift vented heavily. Energon pooled in the hollow under his optic until it was too much and spilled in, marring his vision. He didn’t blink.

“Again.” Wing growled, lifting both the staff and his pede. He didn’t offer Drift a servo up.

Drift forced himself up, licking energon from his lips when it ran down his face. He threw the bit of staff he was holding down, and faced off against Wing. He was so tired. He hadn’t gotten much recharge the night before. Now that he had been born, his groon were spent in the plain training room, reaching for his Spark and clustermates. He was _tired_ and his frame _ached_ and he didn’t...want to.

Righteous indignation filled his frame, his spark, his _Spark_. Drift blinked and he was no longer facing across from Wing. He was stood at the edge of the sparring mat, watching a massive grey and black mech narrow his optics at his opponent. He looked at Drift for a second. “Who is this?”

“My—” Drift didn’t have a chance to say any more before Wing pressed forward on the attack. The grey mech stepped smoothly out of the way, watching Wing like he was below him entirely. Drift cycled his intake. “Teacher.”

“Is that so?” The mech circled the sparring mat, forcing Wing to turn with him. “And he’s the one who gave you these injuries?”

“It’s training.” Drift said, but even as he did so the indignation rose in his Spark. This wasn’t training. This wasn’t...right. He shook his helm.

The mech darted forward, quicker than Drift thought possible for a frame that large. His punch was telegraphed, a hook from his right that was obvious enough to make Drift wince. His entire weight was behind it, and even with the speed Drift knew that Wing was going to duck it and move past, landing an elbow joint into the middle of the mech’s back, right at a central nerve cluster.

He almost couldn’t watch, but he was glad he did. Wing did exactly as he expected, already shifting down and to the right when the mech’s left servo— the one Drift hadn’t even been _watching_ , it should have been the mech’s _counterweight_ with a hook like that —his left servo came up in a devastating uppercut, catching Wing as he was going down and laying him flat on his back with a ringing clang of metal on metal. 

Drift blinked and he was the one standing over Wing, the other mech now next to him. Drift flexed the digits on his left servo. “I’m...Drift.”

“Megatron.” He said. Drift watched him glare down at Wing. “You shouldn’t let him hurt you like that.”

“I have to learn to keep you safe.” Drift explained. Megatron lifted his gaze to him then, amusement in his optics.

“I’m plenty good at that already.” Megatron gestured down at Wing, who was watching Drift with narrowed optics. “You should go and clean up. Recharge.”

Drift cycled his intake. His struts ached. His hydraulics were barely keeping him up. He looked at Wing. “I’m going to go and clean up. Recharge.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Megatron stayed at his elbow until he was in his berth, optics sliding shut. Drift curled up, letting their indignation warm him from the Spark out.

\- - -

Velocity was tired enough that it took her four tries to input the correct door code.

She vented a sigh when it finally connected correctly, digits almost numb from the lack of recharge. She’d finally found what she’d thought was the correct line of research, something to present to the Institute Deans to convince them that there was _merit_ to letting her do this, something to connect what she wanted to the tradition she was constantly accused of trying to sully. 

It turned out to be nothing. 

She dismissed the several notifications from Nautica. Again. She was...tired. She didn’t want to think about anything more complicated than her evening energon and falling into a berth. Of course, her door opened to a mech she’d never seen before. “Can we not do this now?”

The mech was intently studying the few datapads she’d managed to purchase on a meager aspiring student’s budget. They were ordered carefully and well taken care of. The rest of her hab followed suit. Velocity didn’t know if it was the (hopefully future) medic in her, but there was something about neatness, and things fitting exactly in their place, that pleased her. 

It wasn’t like the maelstrom of souvenirs and hobbies that Nautica’s hab was covered in, and then covered over once more with another layer. She really, _really_ liked Nautica, but really hated her hab. The mech, surprisingly, looked well in place here. “Where is this?”

“My hab.” She said, and winced when the words caught up to her. She didn’t know why these run-ins kept happening when she was a few gaskets short. “Sorry, uh. Tired. This is my hab but, we’re on Caminus. It’s where I’m from.”

“Caminus.” The mech said, the word fitting strangely in his mouth. “I cannot say I’ve heard of it.”

“The Mother called it a colony.” Velocity dropped her notepads on the small table in front of her couch, turning back to the dispenser built into the wall. “I dunno the full history, not really my area of interest. Something about setting off from a dying planet or another. I wasn’t kidding, can’t really tell you.”

“Hm.” The mech watched with interest at the energon that poured from the tap in her wall. “I believe there was an exodus of sorts after the last Quintesson War? I hadn’t considered that those mechs would have survived, built new communities away from Cybertron, but I suppose it is possible.”

“Cybertron?” Velocity took a sip from her energon, letting it warm her cooled circuits. She blinked, and they were both standing in an equally well ordered hab. She glanced around, noting the artificial light and lack of anything resembling a decoration.

“It’s where I’m from.” The mech said, a smile flickering uncertainly across his features. Velocity sipped her energon, wandering around the space. It was...utilitarian, under the neatness. There was a half open space off the living area that she didn’t understand.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a kitchen.” The mech looked startled. “Well, kitchenette. An enforcer’s salary doesn’t lend itself to an entire kitchen.” 

Velocity realized what it was that was bothering her about the whole thing. “Where’s your dispenser?”

“Pardon?” The mech blinked at her, and she was starting to realize all his expressions were fleeting, subtle, or some combination of the two. She read this one as startled.

She blinked and they were back in her hab. She gestured to the device in question. The mech carefully slotted himself into the space next to her, holding himself in such a way so as not to crowd or brush her plating. She wondered if they even could touch. “Oh. Wait, I’m sorry. I’m Velocity.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” He muttered, and she knew the response was more rote than anything, his optics roving over the dispenser. “Prowl. What does it do?”

“It...dispenses?” Velocity couldn’t stop the question. “Um, energon.”

“But.” Prowl looked vaguely like he wanted nothing more than to pull her wall apart and see how it worked himself. She could empathize. “Where does the energon come from? You can’t possibly afford a private store.”

Velocity didn’t take offense to the words. Something in her knew that it certainly wasn't meant as one, more a statement of fact. But. “I mean I don’t have the most glamorous life, but energon is free?”

“Unrationed?” Prowl was entirely still. She blinked and they were back in his hab. She looked more closely this time. It was more than utilitarian. Just as she knew there was no offense to his earlier words, she knew that this was a perfect copy of the habs above, below, and next to it. 

“Your energon is _rationed_?” Velocity tried to conceive of this. Luxury items were costly, yes. She paid a slight rent for her single mech hab, but there was communal housing down the street from her building that was entirely free if she so chose. Nautica lived in a house like that, half a dozen roommates cycling in and out. Nautica said she liked the noise.

Shops and cafes sold treats, but plain energon was always available at no cost. As much as you needed. She supposed, if she were to think about it, her dispenser was built into the buildings pipes, that were then built into the larger energon network. 

She’d never thought about it.

Some part of this must have relayed itself to Prowl. She caught one last glimpse of his hab, his face just this side of troubled, before she was back at her own. She blinked, confusion and disturbance pounding in her chest. Something not hers whirred in her processor, just out of reach of her ability to grasp the exact nature of the thoughts.

Velocity shuddered and downed the rest of her energon quickly. She was pretty sure she had some kind of quick shutdown program plug-in in her berthroom. She was going to need it.

\- - -

“Star, baby.” Jazz’s glyphs were stretched long, no doubt like Starscream’s own were. He’d found a _really_ good dross supplier recently. “You should come out with me tonight.”

“Thought you were working.” Starscream kept his optics on Jazz, trying not to look at the irate blue and splashes of pink flickering in and out behind him.

“Just a half shift.” Jazz rolled and kissed Starscream slowly, heat spreading through Starscream’s frame from the contact at the same speed as the dross. “Come watch me, then we can go out.”

“Why—?” Starscream let himself be kissed again, but his processor had latched on and wouldn’t let go. He pulled back and mumbled against Jazz’s mouth, “Why only a half shift?”

“Dunno.” Jazz’s digits were clever across his plating, and Starscream was ready to sink into the feeling when a voice that didn’t belong to the energon soaked mech behind Jazz spoke.

“He’s lying.” Starscream froze up, staring at Jazz. The voice sounded confused. “But not...it’s a protect you sort of lie. He’s scared of something.”

“Jazz isn’t scared of anything,” Starscream mumbled. Jazz pulled back from his neck cabling with a huff.

“That’s right, babe. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.” 

“Lying.” The voice said again. It moved to where Starscream could see the brilliantly white mech attached. He was looking down at Jazz. There wasn’t any...hatred, or censure in his face, the way his usual— This mech looked curious, more than anything else. “He’s scared of _something_ and it’s something he wants to protect you from.”

“Should I go out with him tonight, then?” Starscream didn’t know why he asked. Jazz was watching him. He never tried to look to where Starscream was seeing things. Just waited for Starscream to tell him what he was seeing.

The mech crouched, peering at Jazz, watching him watch Starscream. “Yes. I think...I think he has a plan.”

“Okay.” Starscream nodded and looked to Jazz. “I have a new one. He says I should go out with you tonight.”

“Well, then.” Jazz kissed Starscream’s chin. “I like this one then. What’s his name?”

“Drift.” The mech answered. Starscream relayed this, watching Drift as he took one more look around the room then nodded. “Yeah, you should go out with him.”

He disappeared between one vent and the next. Starscream blinked, the blue and pink that he’d been avoiding also gone from the room. He brought his optics back to Jazz, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I guess you've got yourself a date then.”

\- - -

Minimus didn’t like going down to the archives.

There was a certain...mausoleum aspect to them. The vaulted ceilings, rows and rows of shelves housing stacks of memories from bygone ages, the shuffling pedesteps of the singular keeper of memories. It all had a way of bringing Minimus back to the tombs below the Ambus grounds, full of frames that would never be recycled, it was beneath their _dignity_.

There were a multitude of reasons Minimus never went back there.

That part certainly didn’t help.

Minimus crept through the towering stacks, trying to find the central desk. Even if the mech he sought wasn’t there, he’d learned it was the best place to wait for him. Everything was eerily silent, and as such, he nearly jumped out of his plating when a sad voice said, “Ah. This is where my brother has buried himself.”

Minimus’s t-cog twitched in immediate defense, his instinctual drives telling him to _transform, run, hide, hide_. He froze instead, forcing the response down. That it was even there at all horrified him. He was at _work_. It was by far the least safe he could possibly be. He forced himself to vent, turning carefully. Unbidden, an optic ridge raised, “Maccadam?”

Maccadam turned to him, pleasant surprise writ across his features, “Well, hello. Do I know you?”

“My conjunx does,” Minimus said faintly, “He likes your establishment, on the occasions he goes out with coworkers.”

“Who’s that then?” Maccadam continued to look pleased, “And how is it he hasn’t dragged you along on one of those occasions?”

“I don’t...go out.” Minimus frowned. “I’m not sure whether to be cheered or dismayed that my hallucinations are getting closer to home.”

“I’m not a hallucination.” Maccadam chuckled. “I’m sure we’ll get that through your processor one of these days. Your spark already knows, even if you don’t want to accept it.”

“This is ridiculous.” Minimus shut his optics. “I don’t have to accept anything. I just have to ignore you and you’ll go away.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Maccadam chuckled. “There’s always one stubborn one.”

“I’m not stubborn,” Minimus argued, optics blinking open. He wanted to smack _himself_ and Maccadam’s chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. He did have a nice laugh, at least. Rung always said it made the rest of the bar want to join in. Minimus exvented slowly and picked his pace back up.

“I know these archives,” Maccadam mused. “The others didn’t like watching our brother build walls around himself, but there was always a little comfort here.”

“It’s a tomb,” Minimus said, ducking carefully under and around a stack of datapads that arched over the narrow walkway between shelves. “You said it yourself. Buried.”

Maccadam blinked rapidly in the corner of his optics. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is. Though there’s still life to be found yet, I think.”

Minimus turned another several corners, relying on his instinct more than anything else to get him to where he needed to be. Sometimes he wondered if the archivist keeper changed this place daily to make himself more difficult to find. Every map Minimus had tried to make was wrong the next time he came back. 

He rounded one final corner and came to the massive desk. It was empty. Minimus exvented, found a solid stack of datapads at the right height, and sat. The archivist keeper also held no predictable timetable.

“Why are you so determined to write your cluster off as hallucinations?” Maccadam seemed perfectly content to snoop around the desk. Minimus tried not to be mortified.

“Please stop talking to me. You’re not real.”

Maccadam opened a drawer, peering at its contents intently. “So boring, brother. Anyhow, I am real. You said your conjunx knows me. Therefore, I exist outside your head and am real.”

“You’re not actually here right now, therefore, you’re not real in this present moment as I’m seeing you.” Minimus glared mulishly as Maccadam opened another drawer.

“Are you this difficult for your conjunx?”

“Yes.” Minimus snapped his mouth shut and flushed. Maccadam stopped his perusal of the desk’s contents to give Minimus a look that spoke volumes. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Maccadam turned back to a new drawer. “Not even a sweet, brother?”

“You really shouldn’t be going through a mech’s private desk.” Minimus managed, once the heat in his face plates had receded some.

Maccadam rolled his optics. “We share a Spark. He’ll get over it.”

“What does that even mean?” Minimus asked.

A long scraping sound came from a few rows beyond the desk. Minimus watched as Maccadam snapped his helm towards the sound, longing and grief changing his entire face. “Yes, well. That’s my cue.”

Minimus blinked and he was gone. The archivist keeper tapped lightly on the desk. Minimus turned back and he was right there behind it, optics fully dark. They had been as long as Minimus had known him. Minimus hadn’t heard him approach. “Hello there. How can I help you?”

“Apologies, Alpha Trion.” Minimus lifted the memo he was carrying from his supervisor. “I was sent seeking this information.”

\- - -

Wing had been leaving him to his own devices, ever since Megatron. 

Drift wandered around the grounds of the facility, unsure of what to do with himself. Potential and already clustered recruits were all kept carefully separate from each other, so as not to create an exploitable network. Drift always wondered what the point of that was. Wasn’t networking the _point_? 

They were meant to be stronger together.

He’d raised the argument with Wing a few times, but it had gotten nowhere. Wing with his processor made up was unchangeable. Now, without Wing forcing him into long hours of meditation, fighting, and other incomprehensible skills that he determined as necessary, Drift was at odds. 

He scaled the side of the facility, clambering up to the roof just because...well, just because he _could_. He sat on the raised lip of the roof, pedes swinging up occasionally to clang back down against the wall. He didn’t know what planet they were one. Pits, he wasn’t even sure if it _was_ a planet. It could very well be a large asteroid, or some kind of satellite. 

Drift liked to think that it was a planet. The facility was a gleaming set of buildings of silvers and whites, completely out of place from the rest of the planet. From the roof Drift could see over the towering grasses and tangles of flowers that were taller than him. The greens, purples, and blues of the planet went on as far as his optics could see, interrupted occasionally by smatterings of pink and yellow. 

He watched as a flock of flying creatures— birds, maybe? —erupted from the tall grass, disturbed by something he couldn’t see. He watched them climb and dive, turning gracefully as one autonomous whole, cutting bright across the pale blue-green of the sky. Someone next to him hummed, “I did always have a fondness for the organic planets.”

The voice was soft, raspy, like the vocalizer was unused to being engaged. Despite that, it seemed to fill his Spark, encompassing more space than Drift had inside him. It sounded lonely. 

“Is it a planet?” Drift asked, still watching the flock as its shape warped and spun, growing larger and then smaller again as they all turned, trying to find a new place to settle. Or, perhaps, they were just waiting for the danger to clear from the spot they considered home.

“Yes,” The mech whispered, a strained, impossibly massive sound. “A smaller one, revolving around the Izo sol. A lovely little system.”

Drift turned to look at the mech and blinked. He could see a stately face, set in a largely undecorated helm. Their plating was a dull, burnished...gold, almost. Shoulders rose above and the barest impression of arms flashed under the strangest bit of fabric Drift had ever seen. It was a cloak of some sort, Drift thought, but he couldn’t gauge an impression of a frame underneath. It was entirely shapeless and colorless, or...it wasn’t void of color, Drift realized. 

He stared at every single color he’d ever seen, and a few he was certain he hadn’t, as they swirled and coalesced into the very depths of space. Stars came together and fell apart as he watched, comets appeared and streaked away, entire galaxies spun slowly across the deceptively black expanse. Drift blinked, then looked up at the mech’s still, sad face. “You’re...you’re one the Primes, aren’t you?”

“Vector,” They whispered, “And you’re one of my children’s students.”

“Oh.” Drift turned his helm back to the landscape, lest he be lost in the cloak once more. “Wing is yours?”

“He is.” Vector hummed a low note, and Drift heard the expanse of time that he could barely conceive in the sound. He didn’t know _how_ , but the knowledge was there, at the edge of his Spark. “A tragedy, that one.”

“Oh.” Drift caught sight of something with six legs, belly low to the ground, slipping between blades of tall grass. He watched it weave a careful path, pausing every once in a while to lift its head and scent the air.

“An entire cluster of stubborn ones.” Vector’s whisper was sad now. “Every one of them with delusions of changing the world for the better. Some were more successful than others.”

“I don’t want to change the world.” Drift said. The creature froze and then burst into motion. Something larger and quadrupedal exploded from the grass near it, giving short chase until it was upon the creature, grabbing it in articulated front paws— hands —and smashing it’s head into the ground. “I just want to keep them safe.”

“A noble goal.” Vector nodded in the corner of his vision.

“Wing said—” Drift bit his lip, trying to order his thoughts. They refused, and spilled unorganized instead. “Wing said I had to be ready to be anything they needed. I had to be the last line of defense and the fountain of knowledge. I was supposed to soothe and teach and protect, but none of them _need_ me for that. They barely _listen_ to me. My own Spark called me _stupid_ and I don’t— I can’t— What am I supposed to _do_ if I can’t be the one to keep them safe?”

Vector hummed again, and it rang through Drift’s frame, into his spark, slowing his cycling down. Drift vented, his fans dying down from the whining spin he’d worked them into. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Vector’s frame heaved a gusty exvent. “You are young, and all you’ve been told is what you should be, rather than be given room to discover who you are. I cannot fault Wing for what he sees as his own failings, trying to reverse them in you. It’s not what clusters are meant for. You, just you, as you already are, are already perfect. You are one Spark, parts of a whole that is perfect.”

Vector’s voice grew more and more strained, undercurrent of vastness growing greater as they went on. Drift let it fill him, venting in time with them. “I feel useless.”

“You’re not useless.” Vector gasped out, barely audible. Drift felt more than heard their last words. “You’re exactly what they need to be safe.”

Drift closed his optics, the bright green blood of the six-legged creature still imprinted into his sight. 

\- - - 

“Please clear your subspace into the provided locker.”

Prowl didn’t bother looking at the gate mech as he complied. The Tagan Heights facility was hardly his favorite, and he knew more than half the guards he interacted with might as well have been prisoners themselves for all they traded with and took bribes from those they guarded. Barricade always shrugged it off with a, “Needs must.”

Prowl hated that phrase.

The gate lifted with a loud buzz, admitting him to the inner hallway of the prison entrance. Prowl approached the office and slid his datapad in the receiving slot. “I’m here to speak with Prisoner 155945. All the appropriate forms are there.”

“Yeah. They always are with you Prowl.” The guard rolled her optics and perused the datapad. “Oh, you’re here for Swerve.”

“Prisoner 155945.” Prowl asserted, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes again.

“Striker, go grab Swerve and bring him to Interro Three.” She called back. 

“Will do, Strika.” The other guard saluted lazily and left. 

Prowl could see Barricade in his mind, leaning against the meager shelf and saying “Doesn’t that get confusing, Strika and Striker?” She’d probably flirt back. Mechs...did that with Barricade. Prowl focused back in and Strika was already looking back at her monitors, gesturing broadly at him. “Down the hall, second left, third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” Prowl acknowledged and left her be. The hallways were the same industrial grey as his hab. He tried not to think about it, but Velocity’s pure befuddlement in regards to energon rationing was still troubling him. The airy openness and colors of her hab were still lingering with him as well.

“Prison sucks.”

Prowl didn’t start, centuries of training keeping him from doing so. He flicked his doorwings out, but there was no sensorial indication that anyone but him in the hallway. Nevertheless, a violently pink femme was now at his right shoulder. 

“This one’s...elaborate.”

This time he nearly did jump, twisting his head to take in the faded seeker at his left. The seeker’s plating showed clear signs of quick-program abuse, and his optics had the telltale lag of dross use. He wandered next to Prowl in a wavering gait, contrasting the femme’s utilitarian stalk forward. Prowl exvented in irritation. “I suppose you two have names as well?”

“Arcee.” The femme’s optics were tight, darting about the place. That, plus the walk, brought to mind caged photovoltaic cats that Prowl had seen, back when there was time and resources for things like zoos. “That one’s Starscream.”

“You’re Prowl.” Starscream said, and then frowned. “I don’t know how I know that.”

Arcee exvented a hiss, like a forcibly depressurizing hydraulic. “You know it because he knows it. Or so they tell me. I dunno. Stop comparing me to a cat or I’ll give you a comparison to make.”

Images of clawed digits and optics flashed through Prowl’s processor and he deleted the referenced thought tree. Arcee snickered. He shot her an altogether unamused look and she only smiled serenely at him. Starscream interrupted them. “Where— Is this a prison?”

“Yes.” Prowl murmured and took the second left, counting doors.

“Oh.” Starscream sounded small. Prowl nearly tripped at the grief and revulsion that pulsed through his spark. He thought— the same way he’d thought everything about Velocity was real, and the things she told him true —that it wasn’t his. Arcee flinched. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

Starscream’s unfocused gaze sharpened and drilled through Prowl. “I always knew this would happen when you found me.”

“We’re not here.” Arcee said, injecting force behind the words until Starscream looked at her. “Prowl’s here and we’re visiting him. Nothing more. No one caught you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Starscream’s mouth twisted, but his optics unfocused again, and he seemed happy enough to wander around Interrogation Room Three when Prowl opened the door for them. Arcee stopped in front of the two way glass, staring at her reflection. “Didn’t think I’d have one. Huh. Slag, Whirl was right, that’s just _awfully_ pink.”

Prowl pieced through what he was slowly starting to gather as fact. Well, he was still a little on the fence, but his TACNET had integrated all the new input and come to its own conclusion. He tried, in general, not to outright defy its gatherings. “Perhaps it’s some kind of expectation on my part? There isn’t actually a reflection there but because I expect one to be, it’s mirroring my own perception of you for you to see?”

Arcee visibly mulled this over for a moment. “Maybe. Dunno. I’ll ask. Why are we here?”

“Information.” Prowl sat on his side of the table, posture straight, doorwings held loosely downwards, digits folded over each other in front of him. Arcee turned back to him and narrowed her optics.

“Ah. Extorting already helpless mechs for your own gain?” 

“I see you’re a member of that radicalist so-called abolition movement?”

“The _what_?” Arcee hopped up to sit on the table at his elbow, peering closely at him. “I can honestly say I don’t know anything about that, but I must say you’ve piqued my curiosity. Are you really opposing anything that calls itself abolition? That doesn’t strike you as, I dunno, the bad side to be on?”

“What, precisely, is there to abolish?” Prowl knew his doorwings were rising in irritation, but he couldn’t stop them. “The very bones of the society that we live in? What would be left?”

“The means to create something new.” 

Prowl had forgotten Starscream was even there. Arcee clearly had too, but she looked at him with warmth and pride. “Yes. Exactly that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now.” Prowl said, but Velocity’s shock still threaded through him. The image of the free energon dispenser _built into_ her home stuck with him. His next words were uncomfortably lacking in perfect conviction. “Everything is fine.”

The door opened and Striker escorted Swerve through, unlocking his basic inhibitor cuffs once he was seated, and leaving with a warning look at Prowl. Swerve looked tired, drawn in smaller than usual, dermametal around his optic bruised. Prowl cycled his intake at the wave of fury he felt through his spark. Arcee glared at him. “Oh, a hardened criminal this one, huh?”

Grief splashed through the fury in her wake, and Starscream whispered, “Be careful.” 

He too, disappeared. Prowl fought the urge to bury his face in his servos. Swerve looked on nervously, not breaking the silence as he usually did. Prowl exvented slowly. “My superiors have asked that I review the details of the Helex insurrection one more time.”

\- - - 

“I think I’m spending more time in your clinic than I am my own berth.” Megatron said, as Ratchet hooked up some new machine to any port left available. “Where are you getting this equipment?”

“I’m building it.” Ratchet pulled a plug back and flipped it over, slotting it into place neatly amongst the others. “Well, me and Spook over there.”

Soundwave didn’t look at all perturbed by the nickname. Laserbeak sat in his lap, enjoying the deep grooming afforded by the smaller instruments Ratchet kept, allowing Soundwave to get between her smaller featherplates. Megatron couldn’t help the smile at her small trills of contentment. Laserbeak was always so quiet these days. “Ratchet: Generous in attribution.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ratchet grouched, but he seemed largely happier. Megatron wasn’t sure if it was his continued survival, the fascinating problem that he presented, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it made it easier to press his own rations into Ratchet’s servos without him noticing. “If you want to say something useful, then have another episode.”

“You only want me for my medical anomalies.” Megatron said, faux-mournfully, laughing when Ratchet reached out and hit him. He’d finally found the right spot to do it without disrupting his machinery.

“Is this an electrosparkgram machine?” 

Megatron blinked at the new member of the room. The machines he was hooked to started whirring familiarly. “Ratchet it appears they are entirely at your whims.”

“Oh, that’s _fascinating_.” The teal femme bent over the machine output, matching Ratchet in tone and posture completely. Megatron bit back another laugh. “It’s reading our Spark as your own, so you get inexplicable double output rather than two separate readings. Interesting.”

“Are you a medic?” Megatron asked politely as he could while fighting back amusement. The femme stood and smiled at him.

“Aspiring. The Institute is an arts school, primarily, so I’m trying to find a way to petition them into letting me study science.” 

“What did you mean, our Spark?”

“Our semblance Spark.” She cocked her head and glanced back at the readings. Even Megatron could see the way they spiked when she spoke. “That’s. Huh. Has the Mother not visited you yet?”

“Mother?” The glyph felt foreign and wrong in his vocalizer. Soundwave’s helm snapped up to stare at him in the corner of his optic. He kept his focus on the hallucination.

“I’m not a hallucination.” She frowned. “Sorry, right. I’m Velocity. I’m from Caminus, it’s a different planet. We’re part of a Semblance. A group of mechs all connected to one Spark.”

She looked around at all the machines again, apparently understanding them. “Oh. Your spark signature didn’t change. Tell Ratchet to do a more intensive scan. Your signature should still be under there, the Spark is just stronger, more evident.”

Megatron relayed this to Ratchet who swore colorfully. Velocity grinned and Megatron returned the expression. They both watched Ratchet bustle around, unplugging some things and rearranging or adding new ones. Megatron watched with some bemusement over the behavior of his friend, while Velocity’s optics were sharp, drinking in everything he was doing. Megatron vented when the creeping feeling of a deep scan washed through him. “You mentioned a group.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Velocity smiled at him, a little sheepish, and switched her gaze back to Ratchet’s work. “I’ve only met a couple. You and a mech named Prowl. I saw another, a white one, with helm fins? But he vanished before we could be introduced.”

“Drift. I met him.” Megatron’s spark burned for a moment with anger. “Prowl as well. I also met a seeker named Starscream.”

“Starscream.” Velocity repeated, and leaned closer over Ratchet’s shoulder to see his datapad. “Mother said that we were a full eight, but one was still in the Well. Dunno what that is, but—”

“The Well of All Sparks?” Megatron thought for a moment. “I suppose it must be. The Well is where unharvested sparks wait to be brought forth. Some believe it’s Primus doing the calling, but I always thought it was more to do with the general health of Cybertron.”

“Ugh.” Velocity wrinkled her nose. “Why are so many of you on Cybertron? And that doesn’t seem very safe for the newsparks, being centralized like that. You don’t have any hotspots?”

“Hotspots?” Megatron parried right back.

“Fair enough.” Velocity laughed. “I don’t know the details but protoforms bubble up out of the planet and someone takes care of them until they get a little bigger, develop plating.”

“Interesting.”

“In its own way.” Velocity shrugged. She sent a mournful look at Ratchet. “Unfortunately, I have to go. I’ll try and visit again! See if we can compare notes on any more of the others.”

With that she was gone before Megatron could react. He exvented slowly, turning his attention back to his two friends. Ratchet was watching the progress line of a deep spark scan and Soundwave was still staring at him, his servos still over Laserbeak's plating. “She’s gone.”

“She, huh?” Ratchet’s optics were narrowed at his datapad. “Well, she was useful. Ask her back anytime.”

“Megatron: said word ‘Mother.’” Soundwave said, something hidden in his tone. The glyphs didn’t sound nearly so clumsy in his vocalizer.

“Velocity used it.” Megatron shrugged. Soundwave looked down at Laserbeak, the silence indicative of a bonded conversation. Megatron waited.

“Word: old.” Soundwave said, slowly and haltingly. He disengaged his vocal filters, causing Ratchet to look up in surprise. “It’s an ancient primal vernacular. I only recognize it because it’s something that carriers and symbiotes have kept on. It’s...endearment. A way to refer to a carrier with affection.”

“Hm.” Megatron could feel his processor turning. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to, “Soundwave. Could you be in Protihex by the beginning of the night cycle?”

“Yes.” Soundwave kept his filters off, and the confusion was evident in his tone. “Why?”

“Do you know anything about a mech named Jazz?”

\- - -

“Maccadam?” 

“Yes.” Minimus turned his helm to see the blurry corner of Rung’s mouth. It was, from what he could tell, held in a considering moue. Minimus mourned his inability to kiss it, but the trade off of his back to Rung’s chest, cradled between his legs, was worth it. The viewscreen was on, but the ad break was enough time for Minimus to relay what he’d been keeping from Rung.

“Are you losing any time when you’re seeing things?” Rung asked, voice thoughtful.

Minimus sighed and picked up one of Rung’s servos where they lay across his stomach. “I’m only seeing mechs, not things, but no. It’s quite literally like they’re in the room with me. Everything passes correctly around me, and they don’t pass through things. They just…”

Minimus was quiet long enough that Rung hummed and kissed the back of his neck. “Just?”

Minimus traced his thumb along the small seams in Rung’s servo, bending his digits this way and that. “They seem so _real_. Like I could reach out and touch them. And-and I’ve never met Maccadam, just seen imprints of your memories of him, but I would’ve sworn to you he was in the room with me, however improbable that seems.”

“I believe you,” Rung murmured against his neck cables, causing him to shiver just a bit.

“You’ll believe anything.” Minimus sat up and twisted enough to kiss him.

“It doesn’t do to tell someone they’re wrong without sufficient evidence,” Rung mumbled against his mouth, making Minimus laugh. “What if _I’m_ wrong?”

“Oh?” Minimus managed back, between kisses, “According to the several tins of nickel in our cupboard, you’re _never_ wrong.”

Minimus was looking forward to what the remark might’ve gotten him when the previously ignored viewscreen played the jingle for the news program they were tuned into. Rung bit his lip and turned him back around, whispering in his audial, “Later.”

Minimus went, trying to focus his optics back on the screen. The pretty communication mech was just finishing up their introduction when he finally managed. “—from Iacon. Thank you. Today’s Senate update came with several bill introductions and finalizations. Bill 106.b.3 was introduced, requesting energon be redirected towards efforts to clear the remains of Praxus in order to properly assess the site for rebuilding. It was accepted on a provisional basis and sent to the Energon Rationing Subcommittee for further review.”

“As if grief and recovery are something that should be politicized,” Rung muttered. Minimus patted one of his servos, still listening.

“—lobbying for the rights of symbiotes to be recognized, including voting, renting space, and a full daily energon ration was introduced and summarily rejected on the grounds that symbiotes do not have autonomous sparks.”

“That doesn’t portend well.” Minimus murmured. Rung pulled him tighter against him.

“Zoning Bill 813.54 has been passed, allowing for buildings to be refurbished into individual habitual suites, rather than tearing the buildings down and rebuilding from the ground up.”

“Ah.” Minimus felt Rung lock up behind him. “I was rather afraid of that one.”

“—finally, Bill 5503.95f was brought forth for its final proposal, led by Beastformer Rights Activist Sixshot of Tagan Heights as well as several others. The Bill lobbied for the end to the Beastformer Registration Program, instituted by Nominus Prime in the 1801st Vorn, as well as the expansion of rights for beastformers to pursue labor outside their intended function, petition the Well for newsparks, conjunx without a non-beastformer cosigner, and vote. After several iterations and rejections, Senate Leader Halogen struck down the proposed Bill one last time, citing the precedent of the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy. Sixshot of Tagan Heights was taken into custody after the Senate session was concluded on the grounds of ‘acting outside the bounds of intended function.’ Senate Leader Halogen was unavailable for comment.”

The program continued to play, but Minimus didn’t hear it. Rung muted it after a moment, pressing kisses to his neck and the side of his helm that he could reach, murmuring between each, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, dearling. I know you were hoping.”

“It’s fine,” Minimus choked out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“It most certainly isn’t fine.”

Minimus wanted to sob. “Any other time. Really, any other.”

“I don’t control these things.” The mech wandered around the couch and sat on the other end, comically large against the furniture bought with him and Rung in mind. Minimus screwed his optics shut. “Send me away if you’re so insistent.”

“Rung.” Minimus cycled his intake. “Do you see the rather large grey mech sitting at the other end of the couch?”

“I do not.” Rung said, and once again sounded thoughtful. “Is he saying anything harmful?”

“If you consider an ill opinion of the Senate that’s meant to be protecting its citizens rather than serving its own interests ‘harmful.’” The mech said darkly. 

Minimus laughed, a little hysterically. “I believe he’s one of those abolitionists.”

The mech threw his rather distinctive helm back and laughed loudly. Minimus watched him warily. Rung remained a comforting anchor at his back. The mech petered off into chuckles. “Yes, you could say that. I am Megatron. You are?”

“Minimus,” He answered numbly. “Rung, he says his name is Megatron.”

“Oh?” Minimus could feel the interest fill Rung's frame where their plating touched. “I know that name from...somewhere.”

“So, it’s plausible you might have said it to me once?” Minimus asked, staring Megatron down lest he disappear or reappear somewhere else. “Which would follow on this trend of my subprocessor plucking information from here and there to try and make these hallucinations seem real.”

“I’m not a hallucination.” Megatron didn’t look particularly bothered at being called one. Not like Drift had. “But I can’t fault you for the reasoning. I thought I was hallucinating as well. Apparently we share some kind of group Spark. Who else have you met?”

“I’m not entertaining these notions.” Minimus threaded his digits through Rung’s and held tight. 

“I think you should talk to them,” Rung said, squeezing back.

“I would appreciate it,” Megatron interjected.

“This is ridiculous.” Minimus felt another hysterical laugh slip from him.

“They’re not harming you,” Rung reasoned, “They’re not asking you to do terrible things. I don’t think there’s any harm in talking to them. Perhaps you can root out the reason for their appearance.”

“I love you,” Minimus said as calmly as he was able, “But I hate this.”

“Noted.” Rung kissed his neck again.

“Are you conjunxed?” Megatron was looking at them with warmth in his optics. 

“Yes, for, oh, a few vorn now.” Minimus returned some of the warmth cautiously. “He seems happy about us.”

“I’ll take the compliment.” Rung’s voice was wry and Minimus wanted to turn to see the smile he knew accompanied the tone, but he was more concerned with keeping Megatron in his sight.

“It’s a nice smile,” Megatron said, like they were conspiring. “Since you can’t see it.”

Minimus blinked. “You _can’t_ be real, if you know what I’m thinking like that.”

“Ah.” Megatron shrugged. “It seems to be some aspect of the Spark sharing. I don’t fully know. You never answered me on who you’ve met.”

“Drift.” Minimus finally answered when Rung nudged him from silence. “Arcee?”

“I don’t know Arcee.” Megatron mused. “But I have met Drift. There’s also Prowl, Velocity, and Starscream. Between you and I that seems to be the full eight.”

“Seven.” Minimus corrected. “That’s only seven.”

“Apologies.” Megatron did look contrite and the imprint of someone else’s voice making fun of him— Megatron —him for the expression sounded in the back of his processor. “It was relayed to me that we are eight linked sparks, but the eighth is still residing in the Well.”

Minimus was struggling to think of a response when Megatron’s optics caught on the viewscreen. “Could you turn that back on, please?”

Minimus relayed this to Rung who unmuted the stream. “—receiving reports of a Senatorial Enforcer Service raid on a series of dockside warehouses in Helex. Sources close to the Force have learned that action was taken based on a tip regarding supposed Decepticon activity in the area. Sources also say that as of now the raid has not turned up any evidence of Decepticon occupation. We will keep you updated on the situation as we receive information.”

“Hah.” Megatron sat forward, entirely rapt with the news program, but emanating smugness. 

Minimus looked between him and the screen. “Are you a Decepticon?”

“That’s it!” Rung sat up, pushing Minimus with him. “Do you remember that bonded pair that Ambulon used to bring around? The jets.”

“Weren’t they trined?” Minimus frowned. “Their third was just always busy.”

Rung clicked his fingers. “Yes. I can’t remember their names, um...Warp, something. He was talking about joining the Decepticons, after seeing a mech speak—”

“Seeing Megatron speak.” Minimus finished for him, the faint memory imprint pulling up. “Oh, slag.”

Minimus blinked and looked up, but Megatron was gone. Rung hummed. “I can’t tell if I’m more or less inclined to believe that your subprocessor is dreaming up these apparitions now.”

“He said we’re part of a shared Spark.” Minimus muttered, trying to think through everything.

Rung pushed him up and turned him around, pulling Minimus up into straddling him before Minimus could so much as blink. “Now then. The only spark you’re sharing is mine.”

Minimus couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from him, leaning forward when Rung’s servo slipped up between his shoulders and urged him down. He kissed him long and slow, engaging his chest plate transformation just enough to tease a stripe of light across Rung’s face. “Is that so?”

Rung pushed him back against the other end of the couch, effectively flipping them so he rose over Minimus, his own chest plates retracting to bathe Minimus in dazzling light. “It is.”

\- - - 

Starscream always felt out of place at the club Jazz danced for.

The lighting was always just this side of too low, highlighting the biolights of the various dancers. Each podium was surrounded by a decadent nest of cushions, each more lush than the last. Various fabrics and baubles hung from the ceiling, getting caught in Starscream’s wings unless he was careful. 

The entire picture presented was a lush, yet comfortable, _expensive_ den of iniquity. Starscream did have to hand it to Swindle. He knew how to set a scene.

Starscream huddled deeper into the cheapest cushion in the darkest corner by Jazz’s stage. Swindle was also very good at creating holes like this, places for less savory business to take place. Places to hide.

Jazz danced languidly above and in front of him, spinning and teasing flashes of light for the lucrative audience he always generated. Starscream didn’t know what Jazz’s intended function was, but he melted into the role of spark worker incredibly well. His movements were perfectly controlled, each flash of sparklight timed perfectly to the music, each flash of wiring and bend to showcase just how loose his tensile materials could be was just enough to entice mechs to get a little closer, and spend a little more. 

It really was a pleasure to watch him work.

Starscream’s spark cycled hard at the remembered promise that Jazz’s tease was to him. The hot exchange of spark light between them. For a moment, something flickered in the corner of his optic and he thought he saw a small white and green mech laying in the cushions, chest plates open, helm thrown back, and optics screwed shut in ecstasy. The spectre flickered and vanished. Starscream blinked.

“Well, that’s a fun and uncomfortable side effect.”

The green mech had been replaced with Arcee, sat back against the cushions, arms folded over her chest. She looked particularly put out, staring up at Jazz. The scene around them flickered briefly, the darkness of the club replaced with the stark light of a cell where they sat side by side on a berth slab against the wall, then flickering again to the two of them sat on the floor next to a couch where the green mech was having his spark teased by an orange one above him, before bringing them back to the club. 

“What—?” Starscream blinked rapidly. 

“It’s not like I can just open up and stroke myself off in _prison_.” Arcee rolled her eyes. “Least of all because Whirl would provide commentary. So anytime one of you decides to get frisky I just have to deal with it.”

“Sorry?” Starscream tried. He didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for. 

Arcee uncrossed her arms and patted Starscream’s wing. “Don’t worry about it. Know why I’m here?” 

“No?” Starscream held still under her touch. The hallucinations didn’t usually touch him. No, they were far more likely to tell him to hurt himself. 

“Hm.” She looked around, and Starscream recognized the same practiced way Jazz cased a room for potential dangers, exit routes, and the like. “Me neither. Don’t love that. Why are _you_ here?”

“Jazz asked me.” Starscream looked back at Jazz, who was in the middle of a perfect backbend, sparklight just barely peeking from his upside down chamber before sealing shut again when his shoulders sank to the floor. "Drift said I should go."

"Who's Drift?" Arcee settled herself back more comfortably and Starscream felt something shift behind him before settling better underneath his wings.

"He's another one of you." Starscream shrugged. "One of the mechs only I can see."

"We're real." Drift was suddenly sat on Starscream's other side, wedged tightly into the dark corner. His optics flashed, biolights barely lighting his frame. Arcee tilted her helm to look at him briefly before going back to watching the room. "We share a Spark, we're a cluster. We're not hallucinations."

"We're visiting." Arcee said. "We can share too. I think that's how you knew Prowl's name."

"Is Prowl another one?" Drift leaned across Starscream just a bit, their plating brushing. Drift was warm against Starscream's perpetually cold frame. "I haven't met him yet."

"He's a bastard." Arcee sniffed. Starscream nodded. Arcee yelped and disappeared, reappearing in Drift's lap. "Primus. I know he didn't actually sit on me, but that was still disconcerting as the Pit. And don't you get any ideas."

"What?" Starscream started when another servo brushed across his wing.

"Hello there beautiful, I don't think we've been properly introduced."

Starscream blinked. The mech was black and boxy, a brilliant orange dock across his chest declaring him a carrier. Starscream couldn't see any symbiotes inside. He looked back up to the sharp red optics looking at him. "Are you real?"

"As real as they come gorgeous." The mech laughed, and there was something just...off about the sound. Starscream felt Drift tense next to him.

"He wants something from you." Drift lifted Arcee's arm to duck under it so he could lean closer, peruse the mech. "I don't think you should believe a word he says."

Starscream wanted to argue. One of the rules was not to do the things the hallucinations told him but— Drift had agreed with Jazz before. And Jazz had been okay with that. Maybe...maybe he could listen to Drift? It wasn't like he wanted to listen to this mech anyways.

"You must be Starscream." The mech lifted Starscream's servo with his own and pressed a kiss to the joints there. "Jazz has been awfully secretive about you."

Starscream glanced back to Jazz at the reminder. His movements were just as controlled, but the easy grace was gone. Every move was just a little stiffer, a little on edge. "He likes me."

Starscream knew this to be true at the very least. The mech laughed again, and the sound grated awfully. Starscream could feel the calculations that Arcee was running, considering and abandoning escape route after escape route. Drift was still staring at the mech intently. Oh, the mech who was talking again.

"I'm Soundblaster." The servo around his was suddenly gripping tight, just this side of painful. "And I think we should go get to know each other while Jazz is busy."

"I—" Starscream glanced back at Arcee's tight mouth and Drift's worried optics. "I don't—"

"—think Jazz would mind." Starscream was suddenly underneath Arcee's weight, Drift sitting in his previous place, servo gripped tight in Soundblaster's. There was a small smile on his face, optics no longer worried, just flirtatious.

"Oh, that genius little bastard," Arcee whispered. "That's one way to figure out sharing."

"Excellent." Soundblaster grinned, his denta just this side of too sharp. Drift kept his small smile up, looking just this side of shy now. "I have the perfect place."

"Lead the way," Drift murmured, swaying into Soundblaster just a little bit before pulling back upright. The four of them rose. Starscream shot a glance back at Jazz as they left the curtained off area, just in time to see him miss a step in his routine.

This wasn't good.

\- - -

Arcee latched a servo into Starscream's plating and towed him along, keeping careful optics on Drift and Soundblaster. Drift had allowed himself to be tucked into Soundblaster's side, optics still coquettish, if not slightly vacant. He adopted a swaying walk, pushing and pulling at Soundblaster as if he was unsteady, feeding Arcee the pertinent information regarding his frame as they went.

She could've kissed him.

Drift stumbled slightly, and used the motion to shoot a glare at her that Soundblaster couldn't see. Arcee snickered. Soundblaster led them deeper into the club, passing a smallish purple and yellow mech whose mouth was twisted downwards, optics...fearful? He looked directly at Starscream, not Drift in Starscream's frame, and his optics widened. Arcee heard him mutter, "Oh _slag_."

Then Soundblaster was ushering them past a curtain to a hallway with much harsher lighting than the rest of the club. His servo grasped Drift's shoulder and squeezed, pushing him down the hallway none too gently. Drift stumbled again, purely for show, "Hey, don't grip too tight there sweetspark, that kinda hurts."

"Shut up." Soundblaster sneered, and in the blink of an optic Drift was the one she had her servo wrapped around, Starscream being pushed into a back room hard enough to send him clattering to the floor.

"Wha—" Starscream managed to get out before Soundblaster kicked him hard in the abdomen, the question lost in a cry of pain. Arcee closed her optics, and when they opened again she was lying on the floor, staring up at Soundblaster. Starscream was huddled into Drift's side, optics wide and shiny with cleanser.

"I see we're done pretending you're into me." Arcee spat oral lubricant at the mech, just because. He reared back another heavy, boxy leg and kicked her in the face. She felt something give under her left optic. Ah, that would be Starscream's cheek strut.

She'd apologize later when they got out of this alive.

Time slowed down and a grey mech appeared next to her, crouching by her head. He took in the situation quickly, then caught her optics. "Carrier frame types don't house their sensory suites near their joints."

He pointed to a panel Arcee hadn't even seen on the side of Soundblaster's boxy lower leg. "You're using Starscream's body and seekers have retractable claws on their servos. Use them to pry this open and dig in. You're strong enough to hang on if he tries to pry you off and fast enough to get it done before he does. He'll be down a limb which can only help you considering the size disparity."

Arcee blinked and time seemed to snap back into place. Soundblaster kicked again and she darted her servo out, feeling retractable claws she didn't have flick out and dig into the nearly invisible seam of the panel. Her other servo she used to pull her frame closer, curling it entirely around Soundblaster's leg, hugging tight while she ripped the panel open and started shredding wires.

Soundblaster yelled wordlessly and shook her off after a few tries, but she bounced back against the wall with something smoking and important looking in her fist. She kept the wall at her back as she stood quickly, watching Soundblaster warily where he tottered, unable to walk with one heavy, useless leg keeping him in place. She flicked her optics quickly to the grey mech, swimming around in Starscream's memories until she found, "Megatron, right?"

"Arcee, I presume?" Megatron grinned back, but there was nothing but menace in the expression. "I leave him in your capable hands. My friend should be here somewhere. Point Starscream in his direction when you're done."

With that he disappeared. Arcee grit her denta and winced when it shifted their broken cheek strut. Soundblaster was opticking her warily, clearly having come to the conclusion that he was in a very, _very_ bad situation. Arcee flexed her digits, the ghosts of claws still there.

She darted forward, ducking under Soundblaster's clumsy grab, forgetting for just a moment that it wasn't her frame when she felt servos grab and snap a wingtip. Agony flashed through them. Arcee couldn't take a moment though, following through on her motion bringing her up and over Soundblaster's dock.

Clawed servos found Soundblaster's neck cables and _ripped_ , digging and digging until they found the main energon line to his processor, then shredding it. Soundblaster's grip on their wing loosened and fell away. Arcee pulled back, and the rest of his frame fell as well, rapidly greying out. She blinked and she was back next to Drift, watching Starscream vent heavily, energon swelling underneath his optic, dripping from his digits and torn wingtip.

He stared down at Soundblaster's greyed frame, optics wild. "You killed him."

"He was going to do worse to us." Arcee said. "You."

Drift nodded in the corner of her optic. "We should get out of here."

"Yeah." Arcee agreed. They both waited for Starscream to move on his own time.

\- - -

It was incredibly stupid that after all that they were stymied by a locked door.

Drift stared down in dismay at the door pad, willing it to open. He was pretty sure Arcee was doing the exact same next to him. Starscream was in and out, and Drift wasn’t sure if it was shock or energon loss. Arcee laughed hollowly. “So. After all that, we can’t get out the fragging door.”

“Do _you_ know how to hack a lock?” Drift huffed. He’d never been able to figure it out, for all that Wing tried to train it in him. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things that Wing tried to train in him that never seemed to take. Shame burned through him for a moment before an incredibly sleepy Minimus blinked into existence in front of them. 

“If I do this will you all shut up and let me recharge?” He turned to the pad before any of them could answer, levering the cover off the pad before pulling a few wires, snipping and stripping them with deft movements of Starscream’s claws. He twisted two wires together and touched the third to them, the door sliding open after a few sparks. 

Drift stared. “How do you know how to do that?”

“Build a frame from the ground up and see if you don’t learn anything about circuitry.” Minimus yawned and winked back out of existence. 

“Do _you_ know what that means?” Arcee didn’t sound particularly bothered by this new bit of information.

“Not a clue.” Drift took the initiative in pulling Starscream out of the room. The door slid shut behind them. Good. That was...good. Drift dug through Starscream’s knowledge of the club and surveyed the hallway considering the shape. He slapped another door pad, and it slid open to another hallway. “Cool. This way.”

“Megatron said he had a friend here?” Arcee peered down the new space and Drift saw the various routes and escape plans forming like he was running an autoprogram on his HUD. _That_ was pretty cool. 

“I was aiming for Jazz, but I’ll keep an eye out. Did he say anything about _who_ this friend was?”

“I think another carrier frame. He knew things about Soundblaster, things that would take him down quickly. I’m guessing through familiarity.”

Drift kept towing them down another two hallways that eventually led them to a bright hallway lined with open doors full of chattering performers. He beelined for the only closed door, hoping no one saw him. He ushered Starscream ahead of him with careful servos pressed to this back. “Put in the code, Star.”

He left energon sticky marks against the pad, but it slid open to reveal Jazz standing pede to pede with a large blue carrier frame. Drift blinked, the tension in the room bowling him over. 

“You’re meddling in things that are bigger than you,” The blue mech hissed, sounding angry, but Drift could read every bit of tension in his frame as _fear fear fear_. “Again. This is _dangerous_ , Jazz.”

“Soundy, baby—” Jazz sounded lackadaisical but Drift saw the answering tension in his frame, anger and his own fear and _tension_. 

Their chest plates were almost touching.

Drift blinked in sync with Starscream. “Baby?”

“Star!” Jazz whirled around and relief poured through him before concern replaced it. “Star, baby, what _happened_?”

Arcee was good enough to keep them out of the spray of energon, but there were still thick rivulets running down Starscream’s wing where the tip was broken, bright against the white paneling there. His servos were still sticky with it. His cheek was swelling into something less than pretty.

Jazz’s servos hovered over the damage on his wing, before switching to hovering over his cheek. Starscream leaned forward and let his face be caught, despite the pain that lanced through him. Drift caught sight of the carrier’s optics, how sharp they were on the two of them, how his frame swayed forward towards them.

“Interesting.” Megatron murmured at Drift’s shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Soundwave with both his mask and visor off.”

“Jazz.” Soundwave’s voice was soft. “Let him sit. I can— Let me patch his wing, see to his face.”

 _Let me do that much_ , Drift heard, unspoken. Jazz’s glare was sharp, but Soundwave didn’t flinch. Jazz did, when the cleanser that had been threatening to fall from Starscream’s optics finally did just that, splashing against his digits. “Fine.”

Drift circled the three of them as best he could in the small space. Arcee and Megatron stood by the closed door, keeping sentry. Jazz didn’t go far, just grabbed a cloth from the small washbowl in the room and set to cleaning Starscream’s servos. Soundwave moved behind him, gently probing at the bent and broken wingtip. Drift saw the way his optics flickered when Jazz went to his knees at Starscream’s pedes. 

“Tell them what happened.” Drift finally said, glancing back at Megatron. He nodded. “We can trust them, and they need to know.”

Starscream looked blankly at Drift for a long moment before he said, “I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

Jazz froze. The only sound in the room were Starscream’s harsh vents and Soundwave’s gentle touches to his wing. Starscream cycled his intake. “He was going to— He did, um. Hurt me. I was just defending myself.”

Starscream looked at Arcee, who nodded; looked at Drift who reached out and placed a servo on his knee. He visibly steeled himself. “He’s in a room. Somewhere. I— He’s dead.”

“Oh, Star, baby.” Jazz flowed upwards and cradled Starscream’s face carefully. “Baby, I’m so sorry. He wasn’t— I didn’t— He showed up early. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to go down like this at all.”

“He’s dead.” Starscream said again, voice hollow.

“Apologies.” Soundwave said, and something wrenched in Starscream’s wing, and it was enough— too much—

The room shattered when Starscream passed out. Drift blinked rapidly, pushing himself up from where he’d fallen in the middle of the blank training room. Wing stood over him, face troubled. Drift’s cheek ached in phantom pain.

“I think it’s time we start the next part of your training.” Wing said, loud in the echoing silence of the room. He didn’t wait for Drift to respond, just turned and walked away, leaving Drift alone again.


	5. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The transsteel door behind him slid open and Soundwave stepped out onto the balcony. He was almost too big for it. He sat next to Jazz and plucked the cygarette from his digits, taking his own invent. Jazz didn’t look at his exposed face. “Thought you quit.”
> 
> “I did.” Soundwave exvented slowly and passed it back. “I suppose you bring these things back out in me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now listen i don't have favorite children but...this interlude does live in a special place in my heart...enjoy :)

Jazz sat on the balcony that Starscream loved so much and tried not to shake. 

The jittering glow of the end of his cygarette wasn’t particularly promising. He brought it up to his mouth and took a drag. For a moment he desperately wished he had some dross, to calm the shaking of his frame, the racing of his thoughts. Then he cursed. Not the time. Not with Soundblaster dead and Swindle moving things forward and Soundwave—

The transsteel door behind him slid open and Soundwave stepped out onto the balcony. He was almost too big for it. He sat next to Jazz and plucked the cygarette from his digits, taking his own invent. Jazz didn’t look at his exposed face. “Thought you quit.”

“I did.” Soundwave exvented slowly and passed it back. “I suppose you bring these things back out in me.”

Jazz wanted to hold on to the clean lick of anger that rushed through his spark, but he was too tired to bother. He took a drag and let his helm thunk back against the wall of the building. “What are you doing here, Soundwave?”

He continued to ignore the optics that searched the side of his face. He wasn’t ready to see what Soundwave was seeing. Soundwave exvented heavily. “Megatron sent me.”

“Of course.” Jazz scoffed, and this time the anger that rose was older, less slippery. “You always did have a hard time doing things for yourself.”

Soundwave was quiet, then, “I didn’t have to. I’m glad I did. Jazz—”

“No.” Jazz felt the fury radiate from his spark into the rest of his frame. “You don’t get to come back after who knows how many vorn—” He did. He knew exactly how many. “—with your masks off and pretend that you know what’s going on with me.”

“I know you’re smarter than this.” Soundwave’s frustration was evident in his voice and some vicious part of Jazz thought _good, that’s still something I can bring out in him_. “I know you’re smarter, better than getting involved with a dealer like Soundblaster. Jazz, please, just, what were you _thinking_? Was it worth getting Starscream tangled up in this?”

“Do _not_.” Jazz turned to him, stared at his twisted up mouth, still avoiding Soundwave’s optics. “You presume all you want about me, but you do _not_ get to talk about Starscream.”

He finally looked into Soundwave’s optics when the silence stretched on too long. There was surprise there. Surprise and longing and— Jazz looked away. He may not play fair, but even he wasn’t going to take part in Soundwave’s sadness. He didn’t have that right. Not anymore. Soundwave’s voice was achingly soft, “You love him.”

Jazz laughed, and they both knew there was no amusement in the sound. “I can’t love anything but the puzzle, the next thrill. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Soundwave flinched and Jazz wanted to feel victorious, but the anger had drained away again, leaving him more tired than before. He passed Soundwave the cygarette and they were quiet for long kliks, the exventing of vapor the only sound between them. Jazz finally said, “He was hurting people. For fun sometimes. Swindle is a lot of things, but he’s got a moral code. Aft backwards sometimes but it doesn’t change. And even if he didn’t, his brother’s got a strict one that keeps him in line.”

“Necessary evils,” Soundwave said. “None of us liked him, but...we needed a way into Protihex.”

“Never believed any evil was necessary,” Jazz exvented and stabbed out the cygarette on the balcony floor. He stared out at the jagged skyline, lit with the sallow artificial light of Luna. “Make a deal with Swindle. Negotiations will take for-fragging-ever, but once terms are set he’s solid. Doesn’t renege.”

Jazz made to stand but Soundwave’s servo stopped him, pulled him close. Jazz went, too tired to try and fight. Soundwave was warm, always so warm. It was different from Starscream’s frenetic heat. Jazz shivered and let Soundwave catch his optics. “I was wrong. You can love, _so much_. So much. I’m sorry.”

Jazz searched his optics and saw all the things he was afraid of. All the things he missed. “Don’t.”

Soundwave pulled him that last nanomachanometer closer and pressed their lips together. Jazz kissed back. It tasted bittersweet and like coming home. They separated and Soundwave pressed his forehelm to Jazz’s. “I’m sorry.”

Jazz pulled himself away and stood. Soundwave let him. He stopped in the doorway and exvented. His spark swirled and he didn’t want to untangle all the threads there. He wanted to curl up next to Starscream and ensure the quixotic seeker was still there, still his. He wanted to recharge. He wanted Soundwave at his back. 

Stupid.

“There’s a couch. Stay. I’ll introduce you to Swindle tomorrow.”

Jazz didn’t wait for Soundwave to answer, just stepped inside and let the door slide shut. He thought he might have heard a dock opening, but he wasn’t sure. Starscream was laid carefully in their berth, patched wing elevated just so. Jazz vented slowly and didn’t think about it, just laid down on Starscream’s uninjured side and let recharge take him between one vent and the next.


	6. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Okay." Velocity vented carefully, then looked at Prowl. "I have to reverse your spark polarity."
> 
> "That sounds...dangerous." Prowl settled on. The stark lighting of the file room wasn't helping, leaving everyone looking washed out and wan.
> 
> "It is." Velocity wrung her digits together. "But it's also the best option with what we have, in the time we have."

Velocity shifted from pede to pede nervously, opticking the smooth ramp up to the Council Building.

She thought she might have finally figured out a way to convince the Institute to let her study medicine, onlining with an ache in a cheek that wasn't hers, a wing she didn't have. Unfortunately, it meant she needed to get at the Semblance Studies library. Which was under strict supervision in the Council Building.

It didn't look nearly so intimidating from far away. The soft greens and golds of the building gave it an altogether warm look, and she could see the large, open archways that led right into the lobby, no doors to bar them. It was just—

Somewhere in those halls was Pyra Magna, and Velocity reserved the right to be nervous about that.

"I can't do it." Velocity hissed as soon as Nautica's comm connected.

"Lotty?" Nautica sounded half in recharge, her voice warm and scratchy and Velocity's face burned. "S'early, what's goin' on?"

"I'm at the Council Building." Velocity shifted her weight again and stared at the tiny glimmer of movement she was sure was a bot at reception. Who was probably watching her. Great. "I can't— I don't—"

"Velocity." Nautica's voice was firm, but still had that hint of scratch to it and Velocity was pretty sure she was going to explode. "You can. You do. Just go up and _ask_ about it. Just that."

"But—"

"Nope. I'm hanging up now. Come over once you're done."

Velocity continued staring even when the line disconnected. She turned around and walked away for a minute. Stopped. Turned back around and forced herself back to the foot of the ramp. She invented and held it, taking a step forward.

"One pede at a time, Velocity." She muttered, not looking up until the tile under her pedes changed and she had to make sure she didn't run into anyone or anything. It was still close. Her optics came up and caught those of the mech barely a mechanometer away.

The mech's plating was a soft blue and bright pink-red. That plus the rotors on her back pointed pretty evidently to her being one of the twin Torchbearers. Oh Primus. Velocity felt her flush come back with a vengeance. "I, um. Sorry! I'm— I need— Semblance."

The Torchbearer tilted her helm to the side, a soft smile sliding over her features. "You need...Semblance?"

"Solus." Velocity wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. First the Mother, now this. "I needed to enquire about access to the Semblance Studies library?"

"Sure." She laughed, a pleasant sound, like she was inviting Velocity into the action. "Right this way, please."

She led Velocity through a small opening in the wall, partially hidden behind the reception desk. "There's just a quick application process, and then we can determine if you'll be let through. All datapads must stay on site, but access to the library is allowed all hours. You can make copies of some articles to personal datapads too, but that’s determined publication by publication."

"What sort of application?" Velocity was impressed she managed to make it an entire sentence without stammering.

The Torchbearer— Velocity was pretty sure this one was Skyburst —just looked back and smiled at her. "You'll see."

Velocity followed her carefully down the curving hallways, making sure she kept up but didn't dog her steps too hard. She was so focused on that that she nearly missed the fact that they had stopped. Velocity looked up and her vents slammed shut on reflex.

Pyra Magna caught her optics and blinked. Velocity felt something resonate and snap into place in her Spark. Pyra looked away after an eternity to nod at the Torchbearer, "Thank you, Skyburst. I can handle it from here."

"Of course!" Skyburst turned to leave, giving Velocity a once over. She darted forward and grasped her servo quickly. "Oh, congratulations. This is so exciting!"

Velocity blinked and tried to ignore the rush of energon back through her face. Skyburst let go just as quickly and left. Velocity tried not to gape, but... _Pyra Magna_. Said bot beckoned Velocity forward. "You must be new. When were you realized?"

"A week or so ago." Velocity managed numbly. "It's been..."

Pyra nodded. "I remember. It's a lot to deal with all at once. How many are you?"

Velocity opened her mouth and closed it. Something in her whispered that the knowledge was dangerous, not to be shared, but— "The...Mother said we were eight. Seven bots and one in the Well."

"You've spoken to your Mother?" Pyra's optical ridges rose and Velocity chewed her lip.

"A few times." Megatronus tended to visit at odd hours, sometimes just sitting beside Velocity without a word. He seemed to like being outdoors, burning optics always taking in the buildings carefully, like he was storing the knowledge for something important. Or perhaps it was something else. As much as he seemed to enjoy it, there was also something incredibly sad in his gaze.

"Well." Pyra cycled her intake, and there was something stiff in her movements. "Interesting. How many of your Semblance have you met?"

"Just three so far, but I've got the name of another one. I think...I think something happened to him last night." Velocity frowned. "But, it wasn't something I could help with. That's why I need to get to the library."

Pyra's optics searched her face carefully. Her frame was still stiff with...something. Velocity jumped when Drift appeared at her elbow. "It's grief. Some fear."

"You've got a visitor." Pyra busied herself with something on the desk, like she was giving them privacy.

Drift hooked his arm around Velocity's, leaning his helm on her shoulder. "I don't think she gets visitors anymore. I think something happened to her cluster."

"Oh." Velocity didn't pull away from him. Something in her Spark rang with the need for closeness, a need that wasn't her own. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Pyra looked back up, crooked smile on her face. "It's no matter. Come, I'll show you the library and get you set up for full access."

"Are you coming?" Velocity whispered down at Drift. He nodded without lifting his helm. She resigned herself to the barnacle and followed where Pyra led.

\- - -

Prowl exvented and picked up another datachip, slotting it into place in the datapad with a small viewscreen.

He rather hated the Enforcer archives. They didn't have an archivist anymore, now that Trion had stopped training, retreating instead into the Master Archives in the High Council Pavilions. Prowl had only heard bits and pieces of gossip about Trion's refusal to take on any more pupils. It had been in his early days out of the Well, when he was still working on integrating the TACNET into his basic functioning, but even so he remembered something about one of Alpha Trion’s mentees disappearing. Pax, or something of the sort.

Prowl pulled his processor out of his reverie and scrubbed the video back. A tinny voice burst from the speakers, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. " _If you could step outside the system you would recognize it for what it is: a prison. Worse than that, it is a prison full of willing prisoners._ "

"Not my best work. Or so Impactor says."

Prowl didn't twitch, but he could feel the energon in his lines quicken. He paused the video and looked up at Megatron sitting across from him, larger and no less intimidating than he was on the video. "So it is you."

"It is." Megatron nodded, not looking particularly bothered by this situation. His optics glittered as they roved over Prowl's plating. "How was Helex, Enforcer Prowl?"

Prowl's TACNET spun to life even as he shut down all movement to his facial dermametal. Megatron wasn't particularly adept at controlling his expressions, not that it would even be necessary. Prowl felt amusement and grim accomplishment swirl in his spark. Spark. "You have a spy inside, then?"

"Or, your forces are just that obvious." Megatron shrugged, finally looking away from Prowl to survey the room. "On punishment detail for that one?"

"I'm merely reviewing the case." Prowl did his best to stuff the memory file of his squad captain shoving him towards the archive to 'see if he could put that fancy computer to work.'

"Of course." Megatron nodded to the datapad in his hand. "What do you think?"

"Pardon?" Prowl raised an optical ridge.

"Impactor says it's not my best. I wanted to know what you thought."

"It's heretical."

"Heretical?" Megatron leaned over the table, peering into Prowl's optics. "I can't say I pegged you for the religious type, Enforcer Prowl."

"Primus declared our functions, and our functions inform our place in society." Prowl said, but something twinged slightly in his TACNET program suite. The image of Velocity's energon tap, Swerve's bruised face, Starscream's rusted plating all flashed across his processor.

"Tell me, Enforcer Prowl, is your function something physical? Is it software? Is it programming? Who determines that?"

"It's—" Prowl snapped his mouth shut and glared. "I don't decide that. The Well Minders do."

"Why don't you decide it? Why shouldn't you ask questions like that?"

"It's not important. Your function is your function."

"But what if your declared function isn't correct? What if you're operating at substandard ability? What if you were to perform the function you so desired and contributed more to society? Were more _useful_?"

Swerve had been sheltering an illegal energon still. Prowl had found it in his hab, constructed of parts discarded by the metallurgy lab he'd worked at. Prowl remembered his babbled pleas as he was put into full stasis cuffs, "It doesn't make energon, it just filters it! The rations in Helex are barely frame safe! I'm just trying to make things safer, so we stop getting sick, stop shutting down. I'm trying to _help_."

Prowl blinked and met Megatron's gaze. "A foolish argument. You have no interest in being _useful_."

Megatron's optics shuttered and he sat back. Prowl didn't realize how close he had gotten until he was gone. He also hadn't realized that his cooling fans had clicked on, TACNET running at full. Megatron's voice was soft. Enticing.

Deadly.

"I was little more than _useful_ for more vorn than you've been online. It loses its shine after less time than you might think."

He looked away. Prowl's optics traced the line of his jaw before he could stop them. He blinked and dropped his gaze back to the blurry image on the viewscreen. He pressed play. " _And not only are you a prisoner within the system, you are a prisoner within your own body. Whether you were born or made, forged or constructed cold, you are trapped inside your alt-mode._ "

The recording fizzled out in the roar of the crowd, something that was nothing but fuzz on the poor quality recording. Any further words Megatron said were lost in the blown out noise. Prowl ejected the datachip, considering it carefully. "You never speak publicly anymore."

"Hm?"

Prowl didn't look at him. There was something brewing in his TACNET that he didn't particularly like, but he wasn't sure it was worth the trouble of trying to delete the tree. "It's been several orn since any public rally such as this, and in the previous three you were not present."

"Yes." Megatron was still staring off to the side when Prowl chanced a glance at him. His expression was pensive. "Is there an interrogative in there somewhere?"

Prowl exvented, a small huff of frustration. It got Megatron to smile, just a little bit. "Why don't you speak publicly like this anymore?"

"My advisors don't think it's a good idea." Megatron shrugged, and finally uncrossed his arms, placing them back on the table, looking at Prowl once more. "Every governing frame, every power structure, every injustice that we're opposing has a few things in common. One being a hierarchy. Whether it's the caste system, the 'Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy,' or the Senate itself, everything relies on someone being greater than you, someone being lesser."

Megatron paused, and something wry stole across his face plates. "The problem is that when you're at the top of the hierarchy it becomes very easy to lose sight of those at the bottom, or the path that you took as you clawed your way to the top. It was pointed out to me that I was perhaps losing sight of my purpose when I stood atop that stage, above the grand masses that I'm meant to be serving."

"Serving," Prowl repeated, trying to taste the word, understand its place in Megatron's mouth. It felt wrong, bitter and unwieldy.

"I may not want to be forced into service." Megatron leaned across the table a little more and Prowl once again became aware of how close their faces had become. "But I will not deny the voluntary mantle when it's the right thing to do."

"You seem very confident that what you're doing is right." Prowl muttered, drawing back. His TACNET was doing the most unfortunate work of processing Megatron's words rather than dismissing them outright. A frown he couldn't stop flitted across his face.

Megatron shrugged. "I suppose that's always up for debate. I'm trying, if nothing else. Those around me, smarter than me, are trying."

Swerve's wailing voice flashed through Prowl's processor once more. " _I'm trying to_ help _._ "

Prowl dropped the datachip in his subspace and picked up a new one, slotting it into place. The file opened and played back an old bootleg of a gladiator match, younger blurs of Megatron and Impactor barely legible enough to make positive identifications tearing at each other with barely contained viciousness. His TACNET added the combat statistics to the building file it was working on.

When Prowl looked up again, Megatron was gone.

\- - -

"—point Cyclonus had to step in and pull the mech off me, even though I fraggin' _had it_ , he just doesn't listen to me—"

"I listen exactly as much as I need to."

"—which is when the barmech decided that we were no longer allowed at that establishment. Legs was pretty mad at me about that, but in my defense I intended to finish what I started, shuttle frame or no."

Arcee couldn't help the snort that fell from her. Whirl beamed like he'd been told that actually, this whole prison thing was just a joke, he was free to go. His optic housing cocked to the side. "You gotta have some fun stories, if you're as old as they say you are."

"Depends on your definition of fun, I guess." Arcee frowned at the ceiling, stretching her arms above her helm to try and unkink the pinched wire in her neck. Not even a basic bolster in here. What was she going to do with that? Softly bop her way out of the building? "I'll grant you I've seen some slag."

"You served under Galvatron."

Whirl stilled in the way that Arcee was coming to recognize as Cyclonus borrowing his optic to watch her. It stopped bothering her after the fourth or fifth time. This time her spark cycled hard, like it was off balance in its crystal. "Under isn't exactly the right term."

Whirl shook himself out and darted a look between her and Cyclonus. "Cyc used to serve under Galvatron too."

"He was my mentor." Cyclonus murmured, something carefully hidden in his tone. Arcee didn't go digging.

"Yeah?" Arcee considered lying but...she almost snorted. She liked these two. "We were forge-siblings. Came from the Well together. Not twins, but something close like that. Kind of hard for me to imagine that hot-headed idiot getting himself a mentee."

"I imagine it was several vorn after your...disappearance? You were, as I said, all but legend at that point. I was not aware that there was any kind of deeper connection to Galvatron."

"We fought," Arcee said softly, "The kind of big bridge burning fight you don't come back from. He wanted to pledge to fight with the Primes. For the Primes. I disagreed. I left."

"Where'd you go?" Whirl threaded himself through the bars, leaning on them and peering at her.

"This way, that way." She closed her optics and pulled up the memory files of rushing space, brilliant galaxies and stars. "Spent some time doing work for galactic trading posts. Learned some new tricks from aliens. Stayed on some colonies for a while once there were colonies to be staying on."

"Which led you to spark prison back on Cybertron?"

Arcee's vents caught. She had to hand it to Whirl, mech was strangely fearless in a lot of ways. She forced herself to unwind before answering as lightly as she was able. "Yeah, well. Things happen."

"Tell me about it." Whirl rolled his optic.

"Which Prime was he pledging to?"

Arcee tilted her head just enough to catch sight of Liege Maximo sitting against her cell wall, legs crossed in front of him. He looked tired, more diminished than the last time she'd seen him. She rolled her optics. "Prima. Melodramatic aft."

"Yes, they had a tendency of being exactly that." Liege chuckled, but the sound was strangely hollow. "Did you know many of us?"

Arcee shrugged. "Solus, Onyx, Micronus, Amalgamous. The friendly ones. Everyone else was more knowing _of_ them than anything else."

She hadn't yet looked away, and caught the slight crumple of his features at their names. She wondered who was left. Something in her spark told her that the friendly ones hadn't lasted. They rarely did.

She didn't ask.

"I haven't yet found the chance to needle my brother for birthing someone older than him, but I do thank you for the opportunity."

"Happy to help."

"Creator." Cyclonus's voice was barely a rumble for how low he was keeping it. "Do you—? Have you—?"

Liege kept his optics on Arcee. "Let me tell you, birthing is just the worst. My last cluster were nothing but a bunch of headaches. Absolute brats. I mean, I checked in with them just an hour ago and they were getting up to some nonsense."

Arcee couldn't credit the tension in the room. She blinked at Liege. "Yeah, sparklings are a party."

"What's—?" Whirl's question cut off with the stilling of his frame.

"It's the optics." Liege nodded. "My one, Tailgate? He just blinks up at you, even with the visor, and you find yourself doing _anything_ to keep him happy."

The tension abated just as abruptly. Arcee found herself breathing easier with it, and she didn't know what exactly had just happened. "That's what you get for having more than one."

Liege shrugged, but despite the fatigue he looked pretty happy about this. "Wouldn't trade 'em for the world, is the thing. Don't wanna _talk_ to 'em more than I have to but—" He waved a servo. "Needs must."

Something twinged in Arcee's Spark. "Never been a fan of that phrase."

"You and me both." Liege laughed hollowly.

\- - -

Starscream curled up carefully in his favorite corner by Jazz's stage, not listening to the mechs in the next area over talk.

He'd onlined that morning warm and only a little sore. His face was still swollen, but Soundwave had evidently set the broken strut back into place after he'd passed out. His wing only throbbed a little bit where it was wrapped, keeping the tip in the correct place. Jazz had still hovered, setting Starscream's spark to spinning.

"You really had to go and make me _care_ about this little venture, didn't you?"

Starscream jumped. Swindle was sitting on the edge of Jazz's stage, peering down at him. Starscream blinked, optics darting back to where he could clearly see Swindle, _actual_ Swindle, still talking with Jazz and Soundwave. The Swindle in front of him waved a servo. "Onslaught can handle negotiations for a hot klik. He's been curious about Megatron's whole deal for a while now. Blast Off's helping too. Right now, I'm talking to you."

"I don't understand." He might have. The time at the club, plus the recharge, then Soundwave's watchful optics had meant that Starscream was dangerously lucid for the first time in a long time, and he was starting to realize that several of his hallucinations weren't...they didn't add up to anything normal.

"I know you're new to this but keep up." Swindle clicked his digits in front of Starscream's optics. "Clusters protect each other. If Jazz has tied himself to a cluster like this then we're gonna have to be serious about this deal."

"Were you not serious before?" Starscream frowned. He was still trying to piece together exactly what had happened from Jazz's fractured apologies and the spectre of thoughts not his still running around his processor. "It seemed pretty serious."

"Things moved fast." Swindle didn't seem bothered by this. "I mostly wanted to see what would happen. That's why Jazz was the one talking to Soundblaster, not me, just in case."

"You're kind of a bastard." Starscream pointed out. Swindle didn't seem bothered by this either.

"I've got bigger things to worry about, trust me. You do too." Swindle disappeared for a nanoklik and reappeared. "Sorry, getting Onslaught back on track. Anyway, have you been given the rundown? Protect each other, no medics, don't tell _anyone_ , et cetera?”

"Um. Possibly?"

"Nexus help me." Swindle rolled his optics to the ceiling. "Someone'll get around to it. The big guys are good for that at least. We gotta talk about the Hunters."

"I don't—"

"Yeah, kid, I know." Swindle exvented and looked back at his body, Jazz, and Soundwave. "They're— We can't prove anything, but it's some kind of functionist thing. Might be Senate, might not. There're a lot of rich aftheads out there who buy a little too deep into the functionist thing just because it serves them well. Anyway. Hunters. They're after our kind. Collect and kill. That's why you can't tell _no one_."

"I—"

"Slag." Swindle disappeared, and Jazz made his way back to Starscream, pulling him up out of the corner and huddling close.

"Hey, Star." Jazz lifted his servo and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his digits. "You doin' okay?"

"Yes." Starscream watched over his helm where Swindle and Soundwave were still dealing, both of them glancing over at the two of them periodically. He blinked away the broken purple plating standing behind them. "I think so."

\- - -

"Rung! Hey! Over here!"

Minimus let himself be tugged through the crowded bar, ignoring the surprise on Rung's friend's faces when he was pushed into the booth they had already congregated. Rung sat, boxing him into his seat, but it was comforting all the same. Ambulon stared at him warily. Blaster was watching him coolly behind a small cube of high grade, but Rosanna looked at him curiously where she was in Blaster's lap with Stripes curled around her entire frame.

Riptide was the only one smiling at him. "So, you're the mysterious conjunx."

"I...am, yes." Minimus felt his face heat, and cursed how light his face plates were. Blaster looked away, dropping a servo onto Stripes's head. Minimus felt something close to shame curdle in his tanks. He'd forgotten Blaster would be here.

"We were starting to think Rung was making you up." Ambulon said slowly, clearly wondering why he was here.

Minimus almost wasn't sure himself. Conjunxed though he and Rung might be, there was still something nice about being on their own. Minimus generally held no interest in crowded bars, and the times Rung were out meant he could catch up on reading without fear of being...distracted.

Even so, his spark had constricted at the prospect of even a groon on his own. It hadn't felt quite...right, but he couldn't deny it. Rung had been quietly happy when Minimus asked to accompany, and he certainly couldn't deny _that_. Next to him, Rung laughed. "I'm a terrible liar and you know it."

"It's why you and Riptide get along so well." Blaster interjected, voice soft where his optics were hard. Minimus flinched.

"Let me go get everyone a round." Minimus dropped a light servo to Rung's elbow. "Ping me the orders?"

"Thank you." Rung smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Minimus very carefully didn't look at Blaster as he extricated himself from the booth, ducking under elbows and around heavy legs until he was up to the bar.

"He's bein' dumb."

Minimus froze. His optics flicked without his permission to the cassette now next to him. Eject didn't look remotely mad though, just his usual level of bored with the proceedings around him. "Ah, sorry?"

"Blaster." Eject shrugged, and Minimus flinched again. "We _know_ you don't talk to either of ‘em. What does he have to be mad at you about? It's not like he's mad at _me_ for anything."

"Yes, well—" Minimus stopped, unsure of where he was going with that. Eject looked back at him, visor fully focused, and Minimus almost shivered at the similarities between gazes. "Yes."

"Yeah." Eject smiled. "He's bein' dumb. Ignore him. He'll remember you're not him eventually, the same way he knows I'm not him."

There were too many hims in this conversation that Minimus didn't want to think about, so he took the distraction of the bartender gratefully. At least, until he looked at him. Maccadam winked at him. "Nice to see you again, Minimus."

"Thought you never came out?" Eject asked lazily, too smart by half. Minimus ignored him, focused instead on the recognition in his...in his _spark_ of all places. He knew, he _knew_ , that he'd never met Maccadam, barring that unfortunate hallucination.

"I—" Minimus's comm suite came to life with Rung's ping with the orders. Minimus grasped tightly to the distraction and relayed the requests.

"So, this mysterious conjunx of yours that knows me is one of that group." Maccadam hummed, turning this way and that to make the drinks. His optics went distant for a moment. "Ah, it's Rung, isn't it?"

"Yes." Minimus said slowly, something constricting in him as Maccadam, real, in the mesh, Eject could _see_ him Maccadam, picked up on a conversation that Minimus had been having with his subconscious representation of the mech. Or so he'd thought.

"Oh, I don't think I've met you!"

Minimus looked tiredly to his left. A teal mech was looking around curiously before settling her optics back on Minimus. His mouth was moving before he could think. "You must be Velocity."

"Yes." She beamed, the expression then giving way to concentration. "You're...Ambus?"

"Minimus." He murmured, ignoring the awful stutter of his spark cycle.

"Sorry." She did actually look contrite, which was rather nice.

"Drinks are ready!" Maccadam slid a collection of cubes and glasses in front of him and winked again. "Be seeing you, Minimus. Miss Velocity."

Velocity waved at Maccadam's retreating form. "Oh, he must be one of the Mother's Semblance, right?"

"I have no idea what's going on." Minimus looked forlornly at the drinks.

"Me either." Eject snorted, startling Minimus into remembering that he was there. "This must be why you don't come out much. Weirdo."

Eject collected half the drinks and set off, leaving Minimus to work out the other half and scramble after him. Velocity trailed in their wake. "Let me guess, Cybertron?"

"Yes." Minimus muttered, trying not to be caught out _again_ as the mech talking to himself. "Please, _please_ go away."

"Can't." Velocity shrugged. “You're the one holding me here."

Minimus paused, just in sight of the table. He looked askance at Velocity. "You're real, aren't you? I'm not imagining this, you're a real mech somewhere that I'm...connected to somehow."

"We're connected by Spark." Velocity said, something gentle in her tone. Bedside manner, he realized. She talked like a medic. "You still have your own, obviously, but our Semblance Spark is layered over it. Or Cluster Spark. I don't know why it's different on Caminus. Maybe the Magna's Mother called it something different?"

"Okay." Minimus collected all the rapidly linking logic pathways and thought trees, packaged them up, and shunted them off to the side. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Fair enough." Velocity touched his shoulder carefully, turning him back to the table and pushing lightly. "You can ask me about it sometime. We're getting better at voluntary visiting I think. At least, some of us are, I can feel it."

Minimus placed the drinks on the table and let himself be ushered back in the booth. Eject was standing between Blaster and Riptide, opticking him carefully. "Rung, mech, your conjunx has some weird in with Maccadam; he gave us the good stuff and didn't charge up."

"I—" Minimus bit his lip, feeling shaky until Rung dropped a servo to grip his knee under the table. "We've met before. Have some things in common."

Drift flickered into place behind Blaster, plating dirty and scratched. He looked into Minimus's optics for an interminable length of time then shook his helm, blinking back out of existence.

\- - -

Drift curled himself tighter into the branches of his chosen tree.

He hadn't even known that this planet _had_ trees, let alone what part of the planet that they were on. Which wasn't great, considering he'd onlined in a copse of them with nothing but a note, written on _paper_ , something he couldn't even cannibalize for parts, that said _FIND YOUR WAY BACK_. The trees were tall, towering over Drift easily, with solid trunks and winding branches that did their best to cover any possible light that might have reached the ground.

His spark cycled with sickly fear and indignation. It seemed to spin to an offbeat of _this is_ not _training_ , over and over. He clung to it.

There was a noise somewhere below him and he stilled, dialing his audials up. Arcee hummed thoughtfully. "Forest like this, anything making noises like that down there can't climb up."

"Hi." Drift finally settled on. He was sure he looked pathetic. He _felt_ pathetic. He didn't know how this was supposed to help him or his cluster at all. He kept coming back to Vector's words, the comforting weight of _you, just you, as you already are, are already perfect._

"This is dumb." Arcee's leg swung out and impacted with the tree's trunk.

"Training." Drift shrugged as best as he could, curled tightly around his spark the way he was.

"Like I said." Arcee's denta flashed in the little strains of dying light that permeated the trees. "Dumb."

The light slowly slipped away, leaving the both of them in deep shadow. The planet didn't have a moon, just small chunks of asteroid debris that occasionally winked with pale light. Drift's biolights offered them a small glow to see by, but Arcee's didn't. She looked down at her frame. "One of these days the logic of this slag is gonna make sense."

"Can logic really be applied to sparks?

"Whatever." Arcee reached out and hauled him out of his protective hunch. "Let's get going. I can get you at least halfway there tonight."

"What? No." Drift peered down at the forest floor, or where it should have been in place of the oily blackness below.

"Yes." Arcee tugged again. "Come on, anything that comes out at night is gonna be freaked out by the fact that you light up, nevermind the glowing white plating."

"It doesn't _glow_." Drift pouted, but followed her down the tree carefully. It wasn't like he was pearlescent or anything.

"You should consider adding some color to the look." She looked around for a moment then set off in a direction Drift couldn't reason out.

"I'm not taking advice from a mech who's pink. _Only_ pink."

Arcee huffed and let him trip over a root. He glared at her. She glared back. "Not like I chose this one."

"Oh, and I have so much freedom." Drift muttered, then blinked.

Arcee clapped a servo on his shoulder. "That's the spirit, mech."

"I'm— I don't—"

"Let it lie." Arcee stopped, considered something that Drift couldn't determine, then turned them a bit to the left and kept going. "What would you add, if you could?"

"I...don't know." Drift watched her deftly snake their way over root systems and around trunks. "Were, um, were you always pink?"

"I've been probably every color you can think of," Arcee said. "Some of them, admittedly, more atrocious than this mess right here."

"It's not the worst," Drift said carefully. "Just...a bit much all over."

"Yeah." Arcee paused for a second, holding her own arm up to her optics. "Maybe as an accent color. I'm kind of growing fond of it."

"Maybe...red." Drift muttered quickly, spark cycling hard. Arcee grinned at him sidelong.

"Red's good."

The trees were thinning, Drift realized. More light was filtering through the canopy leaves, and the branches above them looked more and more like branches than a tangle of webbing waiting to ensnare. Arcee's denta didn't look quite so sharp in the softer light. 

\- - - 

"Soundwave still in Protihex?" Impactor didn't look up from the report he was diligently filling in. Megatron concentrated for a moment and looked in on Starscream. He was sitting in the corner of his couch, watching Jazz and Soundwave quietly snipe back and forth. Soundwave's mask and visor were both still off.

"He is." Megatron blinked the image away, looking down at Impactor's careful, boxy glyphs. He hated writing, they both knew it, but he never failed to finish the reports necessary to his post in his own time. "Anything unusual I should know about Helex?"

Impactor shrugged. "Nah. Pretty standard move. Younger one down there said there isn't a leak, one of their fringe mechs got tossed into prison on slag charges."

"Do we have a legal advocate?" Megatron sat forward, ignoring his own review of Soundwave's reports.

"No one to spare." Impactor shook his head. "They basically smash and grabbed the mech, he'd been filtering energon for them."

"Where's Krok right now?"

"Praetorus Wharf, negotiating on behalf of that attempted dock union?"

"Slag." Megatron rubbed his optics. "I'd...completely forgotten about that."

"We figured." Impactor shrugged, filling in another section of his form. "I've been monitoring it, but Krok's pretty reliable. He's handling himself well."

"You think he should be brought higher up?"

"Maybe, eventually. Right now he's more useful knowing less, having more visibility." Impactor put his stylus down and looked fully at Megatron. "You gonna share what happened in Protihex?"

Megatron exvented in a gust, slouching over the table. "Do we have any high grade?"

"That bad?" Impactor asked, but leaned back and grabbed a small cube from the bottom of a lone shelving unit. He peered at it, then poured them both a measure, emptying the cube. "Slag, when's the next time those twins are coming out of Slaughter City?"

"I think they've been forced underground." Megatron took a small sip and let it run over his glossa for a klik.

"Slag." Impactor took his own small sip then squared his optics back on Megatron. "So, Protihex?"

"Soundblaster's dead." Megatron closed his optics, felt the give of cables and tubing underneath claws he didn't have. "Some sort of play that we weren't aware of until it was over."

"Hm." Impactor tilted his cube one way then the other. "Can't say that's much of a loss. The new players willing to play with _us_?"

"Soundwave seems to think so." Megatron smirked. "One of them is his ex."

Impactor raised an optical ridge, clearly hiding a smile. "You don't mean... _the_ ex."

"Oh, but I do."

"Shut the frag up." Impactor grinned, all out. "How do you think he's handling that?"

Megatron thought about Soundwave's bare face, optics following Jazz around the room anytime they weren't on Starscream. "Well, his report was as dry as ever."

Impactor chuckled, sitting back in his chair and tilting it, rising up onto two legs. "I'll be damned. Spook's gonna have to use his feelings words."

"You know as well as I do that he has plenty of them."

"Sure." Impactor took another small sip. "You ever worry this is too much?"

"How so?"

"I know what we're doin' is the right thing." Impactor stared into his drink, quiet for a moment. Megatron let him collect his thoughts. "But, it's...we're so spread out. Are we helping more mechs, or are we just giving less effort in the right places?"

"A fair question." Megatron trailed his digits down the map scored into the table, tracing the lines in and out of Kaon. "But one that leads to its own set of problems. How do we judge the right places to help?"

"Yeah." Impactor exvented and tossed the rest of his high grade back. "There's always a new problem."

"I know. Hey." Megatron reached out and gripped Impactor's shoulder. "I think we're doing our best with what we have. Something's going to change."

"It's the nature of everything to change all the time."

Megatron turned to face the new mech in the room and almost rebooted reflexively. Impactor caught the motion and followed his gaze, darting about where he was seeing nothing. "One of your friendly ghosts?"

"Possibly." Megatron managed to force out. "Am I correct in my thinking that you're Megatronus Prime?"

"You're _joking_." Impactor looked around the room once more then stood. "You have fun with that. I'm gonna see if I can get Slaughter City on the line."

Megatronus didn't watch him leave, optics kept levelly on Megatron the entire time. The door slid shut with just a slight squeak. Megatron fiddled with his cube. "I— Most everyone supposes that you're dead. If they accept that you existed in the first place."

Megatronus didn't look bothered by this. "Have you considered that the thing that might change is _you_?"

"I hadn't. But it was pointed out to me that I already had, and not for the better."

Megatronus's optics flickered with otherworldly flames and Megatron could barely look away. "Change is change, there is no better or worse. Just inevitability."

"You're saying I'm inevitable."

Megatronus smiled, a strange, ill-fitting thing. "I'm saying mechs like you and I will always cause more harm than good."

"Possibly." Megatron tore his optics away and considered his high grade once more. "Sometimes the harm is necessary. Some things need to be harmed to come out stronger on the other side."

Megatronus laughed, a creaking, burning sound. Another mech blinked into existence in the chair Impactor had vacated. "Teasing, little brother?"

"Merely observing." Megatronus was no longer held aloof. Megatron hadn't even realized he was until it was gone. "I think this one is smarter than his spark lets on."

"I keep telling you to catch up with the news." The new mech stole Megatron's cube and took a swallow for himself. It burned in Megatron's mouth. "Interesting things are happening on Cybertron."

"Liege Maximo." Megatron blinked, looking between him and Megatronus. "Is this Primus's way of telling me that I'm the villain in this endeavor?"

Liege threw his helm back and laughed, something bitter in the sound. "Primus doesn't give one turborat's aft about this place anymore."

"Brother." Megatronus murmured.

"I'd say he's dead, but." Liege ignored him completely. "I can still feel that bastard's spark out there _somewhere_."

"Liege." Megatronus scolded. "He's still our creator."

"Sure." Liege dropped Megatron's cube back in front of him. "Such a role model to aspire to."

He disappeared. Megatronus exvented, gusty and hot. "Ignore him. One of his clusters is up to something and he's running around left, right, and backwards trying to make sure they don't do something stupid."

"Right." Megatron distracted himself with the last swallow of high grade left.

"There are no villains or heroes in real life." Megatronus hummed, something primordial in the glyphs. "Just mechs. Trying."

He vanished as well, leaving Megatron with an empty cube and too full processor.

\- - -

"Hey stranger."

Velocity blinked awake, trying to bring all her processes online. The berth dipped, and cold plating dropped on top of her. She hissed. "Frag?"

"Maybe later." Nautica laughed. It took Velocity more than a few kliks to connect what was happening, but when she did she flushed.

"Shut up." She rolled over and dumped Nautica between her and the wall, staring at the ceiling. "What?"

"Was there any more to that question?" Nautica kicked her way under the berth covering, stealing Velocity's heat. "I haven't seen you in days, dummy."

"Oh." Velocity blinked rapidly, checking her chrono. "Busy."

"You get a Semblance and leave little old me behind, huh?"

Velocity rolled back towards Nautica, searching her face. It was guarded, but that wasn't something Nautica was ever good at. "Don't be stupid."

Nautica reached out and grabbed Velocity's servo, pulling her digits straight and tracing her joints. Velocity's spark cycled hard. Nautica didn't look at her. "You were supposed to come over the other day."

"I—" Velocity snapped her mouth shut. She'd forgotten. Which wasn't a great defense, not with Nautica. "Something bad happened. With one of my Semblance and I— There wasn't anything I could do. I don't— I need to be able to help."

Velocity didn't look away from Nautica, but she could feel someone curl up against her back. "Me too."

"Hey Drift." She murmured. Nautica finally looked at her again.

"Who's Drift?"

"He's a dummy, like me."

"Hey." Drift didn't sound actually bothered by this. He slung an arm around Velocity's middle and pressed his face into her back. "Wanting to help isn't dumb. You don't have to try so hard though."

"He says I shouldn't try so hard." Velocity confessed to Nautica.

"I can see through you using emotional vulnerability to draw me back in." Nautica smiled, something small but there. "But it's working and he's right."

"He's a hypocrite." Velocity put her free servo over his, keeping him against her back.

"You really _are_ Semblance, huh." Nautica's smile grew into something wicked. Velocity kicked at her, but Nautica captured her pede between her own. "I'm gonna have to mess with your internal alarms again, aren't I?"

Velocity denied her fan's request to turn on. Drift snickered against her back. She elbowed him. "Nah, I'll be better. Promise."

"You'll let me back at your plugs one of these days, Lotty." Nautica sighed. Drift slipped into all out laughter.

"I remember the last time I let you use me as a guinea pig, Nottie." Velocity stuck her glossa out. "I like my processing trees the way they are."

"But the _optimization—_ " Nautica fake-whined, devolving into giggles when Velocity worked her pede free and managed to kick her again. They tussled until Velocity managed to get Nautica on her back and sprawl across her. She tucked her face in Nautica's collar faring and closed her optics.

"Nooo," Nautica squirmed, but didn't throw her off. "I wanted breakfast."

"Later." Velocity felt recharge creeping up on her quickly. Drift was already there on the side of the bed she'd abandoned. "Recharge now."

"You drive a hard bargain." Nautica's voice was soft and Velocity couldn't tell if the servo running down her back was real or imagined before she dropped off.

\- - -

Starscream had left the transsteel door open.

It wasn't out of any sort of distrust. Well, perhaps not on his part. He'd kind of figured out that Jazz was going to need to keep his optics on him for a while, which, in the grand scheme, wasn't the worst feeling. But mostly it was to keep listening to the strange conversation that had been going on all day.

Starscream knew that, at this juncture in his functioning, he wasn't anyone to judge the strangeness of someone else. That didn't stop this from being just that...strange. He peered around the doorframe again.

"Nah, mech, you know it's that place in Altihex. The one next to that weird mech that used to come out and yell about contrails in the sky." Jazz wasn't moving, sprawled carefully over the couch, his pede a bare nanomechanometer from Soundwave's where he was sat up straight in the rickety chair Starscream had rescued from a recycle receptacle.

"Negative. Stanix." Soundwave looked sidelong at Jazz with a sly grin.

"Which place in Stanix?" Jazz's pede twitched, but still didn't touch Soundwave's. "You talkin' about the place with the turborats? The fraggin turborat place? You for real, Sounders?"

"Jazz: Purposely obtuse."

Jazz threw his helm back and laughed, catching Starscream watching and tipping him a wink. "How'd you know what my stage name is?"

"I—" Soundwave's white face flushed a brilliant pink. Starscream wondered if it was warm to the touch.

He pulled himself back from the frame and pressed his back to the rough concrete of the building. Protihex almost looked like a real city under the light of the Sol; the facades bright and beautiful, the underbellies cast in enough shadow to not be visible. He fished a cygarette and lighter from his subspace.

"Still reaching, but not so desperately now."

Starscream paused with lighter lit, held halfway to the end of the cygarette. "You're...I've seen you before. Right?"

"I'm amazed you remember." The mech didn't seem judgmental of this fact, making himself comfortable on the other side of the balcony. "Truly, I've spent a lot of time developing and testing processor-altering substances, and you were on quite the cocktail."

Starscream lit his cygarette, undoctored, and invented carefully. "Are you one of the real ones?"

The mech looked at him carefully. "Just because there are things only you see, doesn't make them any less real to _you_."

"I...suppose." He took another drag. "But you know what I mean."

"You're _smart_ under all that substance, aren't you?"

Starscream wanted to bristle. He wanted to bring the singed single file datapad out of his subspace, point at his name on the display. But he just exvented a thin stream of vapor, watching it swirl and disappear too quickly in the light of the Sol. "Too smart for my own slagging good."

"I've known a fair few mecha that could be described like that." The mech smiled. "They always tend to be a little more fun to be around."

Starscream narrowed his optics, peering at the mech. He didn't seem bothered by the perusal. "You have a name then?"

"Alchemist Prime, at your service." He tipped his helm slowly, and winked. "Here at the behest of your reaching Spark."

Starscream took a shaky drag. "I don't know what you mean by that."

Jazz laughed again, loud enough to carry out the open door. "Tarn? _Tarn_? That place— No, that barely even counts as a place. That was a highway stand built from aluminum that was basically in the Sonic Canyons. Nah, disqualified. Try again."

"What are they arguing about?" Alchemist did his own peering around the door frame, optical ridge climbing higher and higher as he took in the tableau.

"The best place to get energon cracklings on Cybertron." Starscream felt amusement and something a little bit like love flash through his spark.

"Hm." Alchemist turned back around and grinned, something wicked in the expression. "You should say the Iacon Borderlands."

"I've never been to the Iacon Borderlands." Starscream peeked around the doorframe again. Jazz hadn't moved, still draped just _so_ across the couch, but Soundwave was leaning forward, perfect posture gone as he gestured. Starscream caught sight of Megatron, arms crossed and laughter lighting up his features as he watched the two of them.

"Do they know that?" Alchemist's voice had melted into something conspiratorial, and briefly Starscream felt grief rend his spark, grief that wasn't his own. He knew his own grief too intimately to confuse it with anyone else's.

"No." Starscream said slowly, stubbing out the last burning bit of his cygarette, flicking the stub off the side of the balcony.

"Say it."

Starscream gave him a look, but stuck his helm back in the room. Megatron watched Soundwave, as he was waiting for something. Starscream tapped at the edge of the open door until Jazz and Soundwave quieted, looking at him. "Iacon Borderlands."

Starscream shut down his facial movement, as Soundwave's face melted into something utterly _dismayed_ and Megatron collapsed with laughter. Jazz's mouth was moving, but there was no sound forthcoming. Alchemist laughed next to him, something a little wild, a little more than happiness. "Oh. Oh no. Oh Primus. Amalgamous would have _loved_ that."

He winked at Starscream again and vanished, just in time for Jazz to recover use of his vocalizer, "Oh Star. Star, baby, _no_. Don't worry, we can fix this."

Soundwave's face had settled on disgust, and Starscream couldn't help but join Megatron in his laughter, the feeling bubbling in his spark unfamiliar, but welcome.

\- - -

Arcee was trying to recharge when something hummed to life in her cell, slamming her back online and constricting her spark.

She pushed herself upright, sliding off the berth until her back was to a corner. The lights were still out, nothing but the pale glow of biolights from each cell indicating that there was anything but unending blackness. The hum kicked up, and her spark felt like someone had opened up her armor, took hold of the crystal, and _squeezed_.

Her optics cycled over and over, straining to see. Everything hung in horrible silence for several kliks, until the space rang with the crashing sound of unlocking doors. They sounded close, so terribly loud where there was once silence. Something creaked, moved, and she realized that it wasn't her bars, but Whirl's.

Whirl walked from his cell at a strange lope. Like...like he didn't understand his own frame, was trying to get the hang of the legs. Whirl paused at her bars and stared at her. She stared back. His optic was incredibly yellow in the blackness, and utterly empty. It was like some of the moons she'd seen in alien skies.

She couldn't look away.

His optic housing tilted to the side after several interminable kliks, then he turned, limp-loping his way down the hall. Arcee held her frame still, vents sealed shut, until she couldn't hear any other movement. She vented carefully, murmured, "Cyclonus."

"Shh."

Her spark cycled hard, pushing back against the hum that was caging it. "Cyclonus."

"Quiet."

Arcee counted her vents. At three hundred and forty three the humming cut out just as suddenly as it had appeared. She gasped, servo coming up to her chest before she could stop it. She heard a similar rush of vents from Cyclonus. "What the _frag_ was that?"

"We haven't told you yet how we came to be here." Cyclonus's voice was the same low rumble it always was, but this time Arcee could hear a tremble in it. She could hear fear in it.

"No," She said slowly, cautiously.

Cyclonus laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "Whirl has always been. Well. You've spent enough time here with only him for company. You see."

"Okay." Arcee closed her optics. She didn't want to hear this story, but she wouldn't do them the disservice of not listening.

"He had a function, served it just fine. But, well, it was rather evident that he'd serve much better as a fighter. It was a more fitting function." The word function was spat bitterly and Arcee flinched. "Of course, it's illegal to just _change_ functions, even if you don't want to make that change. So, the Senate arrested him and took him to their medical building."

"Cyc—" Arcee's tanks churned, and for once it wasn’t the slag energon they served here.

"Empurata is a fitting punishment." Cyclonus didn't pause, just kept on with that low, implacable voice, "And once a mech has undergone empurata they now serve a new function. He did just that. For several long vorn until we were born."

Cyclonus laughed again, and Arcee heard the catch in the sound. "I only suppose we were lucky that we were born after his surgery. I can't imagine the toll that might take on a cluster. The problem, of course, with being that close to the Senate is that he caught the optic of just the wrong sort of mechs, with just the wrong sort of diligence when it came to scanning for Sparks."

"Frag," Arcee let her helm fall back against the wall.

"Just that." Cyclonus audibly cycled his intake. "They tortured him. In the name of science, of course. They did everything they could to tear him to pieces, find the other parts of him."

Arcee made herself ask. "How did they get you?"

"I tried to rescue him."

She closed her optics and nodded. "Yeah, that's— Yeah."

"You can't involuntarily share with anyone outside your cluster." Cyclonus sounded more and more tired with each glyph. "Within the cluster it's easy, you shift between each other based on whatever you need. Outside the cluster, it's something that has to be allowed. Invited."

"That wasn't Whirl." Arcee already knew, but Cyclonus had stopped like he wasn't sure he could keep going.

"No, that wasn't." Cyclonus exvented like it was ripped from his frame. "I don't get touched. I don't get looked at, linked. For the low, low price of Whirl's frame, I remain of my own Spark."

"What was that?" Arcee asked again.

Cyclonus laughed and it felt like gravel in her gears. "The Hunter is out tonight."

\- - -

Acquisition Form Two Eight Sub Three.

Reallocation of Energon Ration Form Sixteen Thirty Dash Five.

Evidence Locker Access Request Form Alpha Three Four.

Prowl tagged each form as it flicked across his datapad, ensuring they were all there and correctly filled out. The end of his shift set was the best time to file the bevy, he'd found. His TACNET had offered the solution after being forced to listen to several rounds of complaints when he submitted them at the start of his shift set. Now they could complain to their spark's content while Prowl was out of the building.

He added the pad to the stack next to him, reaching across the small space between desks and grabbing Barricade's as well. He didn't bother to open them and check. He was standing with the stack just balanced in his arms when the bullpen doors opened. Barricade was standing next to him before he could blink. "Senator Lanthanide, sir."

"Good evening Enforcers." Lanthanide was a small mech, a pearlescent soft-yellow in color, with coppery accents. Prowl would have tagged him for a monoformer if not for the delicate set of wheels on his back. As it was, Prowl couldn't quite tell what he was meant to be. A cart of some sort? "If I could have a moment of your time."

The ambient noise of the room slowly slipped away, the last few conversations halting. Optics turned to him with their full attention. Prowl felt something in his spark jump.

"I know you don't trust my opinion a great deal," Megatron murmured in his audial, the heat of his frame a blaze where he was tucked tight against Prowl's back. Prowl shut down the shiver response his frame wanted. "But in the long line of Senators you don't want any dealings with, he's rather towards the front."

Prowl didn't answer. Lanthanide gestured to two large mechs behind him. Senate private security. "We simply have to conduct a quick scan to ensure you're all in good function. Faster than a vornly frame evaluation."

"No." Velocity's fear was like ash in the back of his mouth. She appeared in front of him with optics bled so bright they were nearly white. "They can't scan your spark, they _can't_."

"It's not safe." A white mech with dirty, scuffed plating appeared next to her. He looked tired, but his fear was a staccato counterpoint to Velocity's consistent thrum. "That's how they find you, and if they find you it's— Where's Arcee? We have to get out of here."

"Drift. He can't fight his way out." Megatron pointed out. Prowl kept his optics evenly on Lanthanide and his mechs, as they continued to talk about spark function and proper service to Cybertron. "It's a dead giveaway and this is where he _works_ , he has to come back."

"Slag, slag, slag." Velocity tangled her digits with Drift's, optics darting all over the place.

A small green mech appeared as well, blinking slowly. "No, oh no. I'm not doing anything that breaks the law. Why am I here?"

"Minimus." Drift suddenly lit up. "Don't— I'm sorry— I wouldn't if it wasn't important but— You know how to hide a spark signature."

The green mech, Minimus evidently, blanched. He stared at Drift, and Prowl could feel more and more fear swirling in his spark, with something like anger. "Presumptuous of you."

"I can probably—" Velocity bit her lip and looked at Megatron. "If you can call Ratchet and we can get in a room alone I can probably—"

"You can." Minimus exvented. "I— Yes. Fine, I'll help. I don't know how much the knowledge will translate."

"Just give Velocity _anything_ you can." Drift exvented slowly, bleeding tension from every plate in his frame. "Okay. Okay. Prowl, what's the closest room that will undoubtedly be empty?"

Prowl dropped his gaze to the datapads in his arms. "The incoming file room. Through that door and third on the right."

Drift followed his optics. "Perfect. That's— Okay. I can work with that. Everyone ready?"

Prowl blinked and his digits were tangled in Velocity's. She tightened her hold. Drift stood up straighter and started walking towards the door. His stride was unhurried but direct, optics down on the datapad he'd pulled from the stack and flicked on. One of the security mechs moved more quickly than Prowl had given him credit for, dropping a large servo onto Drift's shoulder and nearly knocking him over when Drift tried to keep walking. "Excuse me."

"Boss." The security mech held fast. Lanthanide looked up.

"Enforcer, please remain at your desk until we've completed the scan."

"I have to deliver these to the incoming file room." Drift said blankly, almost bored. "It's currently at the top of my task queue."

"Then move it down." Lanthanide raised an optical ridge.

"I cannot alter my task queue." Drift kept his voice blank, but a tiny bit of panic entered his optics. If Prowl hadn't felt the grim determination in his...Spark, he would have thought it entirely real. "I was not granted access to alter the functioning of my—"

"Senator Lanthanide." Barricade sidled up next to Drift and Prowl stopped venting. But, "Enforcer Prowl here houses our unit's Tactical Network. He has very exact instructions when it comes to his functioning as well as its upkeep. I can guarantee it will be easier to let him finish his delivery. He'll come right back, _won't you Prowl_?"

"Of course." Drift's face took on a quietly baffled cant. "The next task in my queue is Senator Lanthanide's scan."

Lanthanide looked Drift over carefully, something thoughtful in his gaze. "What power level Tactical Network was he installed with?"

"I was determined to function at the level appropriate for a Gamma Sub Hex Tactical Network, sir." Drift said smoothly.

Lanthanide's optical ridges rose again. "What base number system?"

"Base sixteen, sir." Drift darted his optics to the door again, straining just a little against the security mech's hold. Prowl was reluctantly impressed. Drift really gave no indicator than he was little more than desperate to return to his function.

Lanthanide gazed at him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Primus blessed you with your function. Go ahead. Come right back."

"Right away, sir." Drift murmured, and started his steady pace back up again. They trailed after him. Megatron talking softly and quickly over his internal comm. The incoming file room door slid open and shut behind them. Prowl blinked and he was carrying the datapads again. Drift slid to the floor. "Wasn't sure that would work. I owe your bastard coworker a drink."

"We don't have much time." Megatron took the datapads from him and placed them next to Drift. "Velocity, did you catch everything Ratchet said?"

"Yes." She looked at Minimus for a moment. "Do you think—?"

"It would be easiest, yes." Minimus nodded. "There's no way to create a perfectly clean false spark scan."

"But something like the Gamma Sub Hex—?"

"More than enough power to explain any slight hitch away."

"Okay." Velocity vented carefully, then looked at Prowl. "I have to reverse your spark polarity."

"That sounds...dangerous." Prowl settled on. The stark lighting of the file room wasn't helping, leaving everyone looking washed out and wan.

"It is." Velocity wrung her digits together. "But it's also the best option with what we have, in the time we have."

"It's going to hurt." Megatron warned. Prowl didn't think about how he might have known that.

"It should be enough to bring _your_ spark signature forward of _our_ Spark signature, and hide our own." Velocity glanced at Minimus.

"It should." Minimus said slowly. "Any irregularity can be accounted for by the power output you maintain to support your TACNET, as well as the output for the TACNET itself."

Drift smiled, just a little. "How do you know anything about TACNETs?"

"I read." Minimus cast him a frosty glare. "Try it sometime."

"Okay." Prowl interrupted when Drift opened his mouth, a thunderous look crossing his face. "How do we do this?"

"I need you to open your chest plates and unspool the cables closest to your TACNET's main processor." Velocity's mouth hardened, and Prowl could feel her resolve. "We're going to use the power output of it to give you a controlled jolt that should flip your polarity."

"You should lie down." Megatron's servos hovered, like he wanted to help Prowl do just that. Prowl felt the thought trickle into his TACNET's file system. He ignored it. He laid on the ground, retracting his chest plates and opening his abdominal panel. Velocity got to work, quickly attaching cables to filaments that Prowl couldn't see.

"Okay, okay. That should— Okay. Can you—?" She concentrated for a moment, and Prowl felt a file spring into being in his processor. He opened it, surveying the subprocess for a moment. "Feed that into your TACNET, it should run itself and deliver the shock."

Something touched his servo, and Prowl glanced down to see Drift gripping it carefully. Megatron's servos pressed on his shoulders, curling carefully there. Prowl didn't look at him. Minimus took his other servo. Velocity pressed down on his abdomen. "Ready?"

"You'll get shocked too." Prowl didn't know why he said it. He didn't want them to stop touching him.

"We'll get shocked either way." Drift's smile was crooked. "You hurt, we hurt."

"Oh." Prowl considered the file one last time, and fed it into his TACNET. "Okay."

\- - -

Megatron knew pain.

He'd had an existence of it. Even when he'd pulled himself up to a place where he could make the few choices afforded to him it had still involved punishing fights, ripping out friends' sparks, letting them threaten his own. He'd seen mechs die of starvation, begging for energon even as their spark cycle slowed, processors shut down.

He'd seen Impactor the moment his opponent had struck too deep, severed too many wires. He'd watched Ratchet strip the frame of a mech he hadn't been able to save for parts in the hope of saving the next one. He'd cared for Soundwave in the days after they'd taken Overkill away; declared him too dangerous and without sufficient function. 

Pain ended, was the thing.

Megatron held tight to that string and pushed it through his Spark as best he could. His servos were firm on Prowl's shoulders, pinning him to the floor. It almost wasn't enough.

Megatron saw Drift's optics flare, heard Velocity's small cry, caught Minimus's optic and acknowledged his lip bit nearly to bleeding. Prowl was silent, back jackknifed off the ground. Energy coursed through him, through them, enough that Megatron began to wonder just how mechs with TACNET's functioned at all.

It stopped just as quickly, leaving them all sucking in massive vents of air, plating jittering. Velocity, Drift, and Minimus all flickered slightly before Megatron felt a pull on his Spark. Velocity shuddered. "I was worried that might be a side effect."

"Megatron?" Prowl asked muzzily, staring up at him. Megatron looked at Velocity.

"We can't all visit right now, it would cause a surge in his Spark that would be detrimental to his spark." Velocity flickered again. "We're daisy-chaining off of you for now, but it's not sustainable."

Even as she spoke, Minimus shook his head and blinked out of sight. Drift was hazy, but still there, just barely. Velocity was the strongest, but even she periodically flickered. "His Spark latched on to you, so— You're all he can see for now."

"Alright." Megatron looked back at Prowl, shivering on the floor, chest plates still open. "Walk me through unhooking this."

Prowl shuddered every time Megatron so much as brushed against his spark chamber walls. He hurriedly unhooked every bit of cabling in the order Velocity pointed out. He'd just stowed them back behind Prowl's panel when Drift went translucent. "Slag."

He faded from sight. Velocity flickered again. "Frag. Okay."

She concentrated a moment and a packet dropped into Megatron's processor. "It's less sustainable than I thought. Just make sure you reverse it in no more than a groon, the instructions—"

She flickered one last time and didn't come back. Megatron blinked, and gently pushed Prowl's chest plates shut. Prowl's optics were hazy. Megatron pushed him up to sitting. "Alright then, it's just you and me. Let's see that determination that makes you so infuriating."

"I'm infuriating?" Prowl managed, voice weak.

"Endlessly." Megatron stood, and carefully pulled Prowl to his pedes as well, tucking him against his side when he swayed. "You're so fragging _principled_ , but about the wrong things. It makes talking to you very difficult."

"Could stop." Prowl cycled his intake and winced, servo coming up to press against his chests. "Oh, that's— Ah."

"I've never given up on anything because it was difficult." Megatron chided. "Yes. It's just that. Keep your vents even and focus on putting one pede in front of the other. We don't have the time for much more than that."

Megatron led him to the door and let go. "I'm right behind you. These mechs smell energon like starved sharkticons, don't let yourself be a victim."

Prowl's optics blazed, some color bleeding back into them. His voice was quiet. "No. No, I've had enough of that."

His first step was perfectly straight.

Megatron trailed behind him carefully, keeping himself in place to catch Prowl if needed, but he was solid. Pride blazed through his spark, and Megatron pushed as much of it as he could into their Spark towards Prowl. The pen door pushed open silently, but Lanthanide turned his helm to it immediately. "Ah, Enforcer Prowl. Just in time, you're our last."

"Apologies for the delay, Senator." Prowl ducked his head a bit. "I was filing forms for my fellow enforcers as well. It's more efficient."

"Efficiency is always to be rewarded." Lanthanide looked pleased. Megatron exvented slowly. "Please retract your chest plates, just enough for the scan to reach your corona."

"Yes, sir." Prowl did just that. Megatron stepped closer, not touching him, just offering a supportive heat at his back. Prowl's doorwings dropped, just a nanomechanometer.

The scan, as promised, was quick. Megatron watched the small device in Lanthanide's servos carefully, letting Prowl's optics rest at middle distance. It blinked white for a long klik before flashing yellow. Lanthanide hummed. "You said it was a Gamma Sub Hex Tactical Network?"

"Yes, sir." Prowl murmured.

Lanthanide nodded. "Sometimes these scanners can't handle a gifted spark like that. You must have quite the output to support such an upgrade."

"It was what the Well Minder felt appropriate, sir." Prowl said, optics demurely downward. Megatron suppressed a snort. "I'm only glad I can aid Cybertron in any way I can."

"As you should be." Lanthanide sniffed. "As you were. Enforcer Barricade!"

Prowl didn't relax or sink back against Megatron. He merely walked evenly back to his desk and collected some things, before making for the clocking machine. He didn't look at Megatron when he said, nearly sub-vocally. "My hab is a twenty klik drive from here."

Megatron nodded. "That should be fine. Velocity left me with instructions on how to reverse it."

Prowl did stop and look at him then, for just a second. Megatron couldn't precisely read the thoughts on his face, but he had a feeling they were much like his own. Megatron knew the warmth of Prowl's spark wasn't felt by his own digits but—

"Acceptable." Prowl said softly and turned, walking carefully out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lanthanide is an OC, a bastard, and unfortunately...i care him


	7. Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyra exvented again and without thinking too hard disengaged her blocks, letting her Spark reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: single sentence instance of self-harm

Pyra turned her office monitor off with a gusty exvent.

She stood and walked to the window, staring unseeing down at the city below. Her thoughts strayed to the newly realized mech. Velocity. She wasn't sure what about her had troubled her so much. It was to be celebrated, a new Semblance, let alone one with a mech right here on Caminus.

It had been so long, since—

Pyra exvented again and without thinking too hard disengaged her blocks, letting her Spark reach.

"Pyra."

Pyra felt her mouth twist. "Don't come here just to scold me."

"Hm." Wing came up next to her, looking down on Caminus as well. "Why am I here at all?"

"I don't know." Pyra lied. "You didn't have to come."

"It's been a long time." Wing said. Pyra saw his mouth twist out of the corner of her eye. "Oh. You have a new one?"

"I do." She said slowly. "Realized about a week ago."

"One of mine was born that time." Wing's voice was speculative. It was a tone he wore well. "Do you think—?"

"Probably."

They were silent for several long kliks.

"Have you—?"

"No."

Pyra's shoulders caved in, curling forward around her spark. Her Spark. "I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until I saw them visiting."

"It's...difficult." Wing allowed. Pyra snorted, turning to fully face him. He quirked a smile. "It's impossible."

"What happened to us, Wing?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, cradling the broken Spark she still yearned for. Wing cautiously lifted his own arm, letting her burrow against his side.

"Cybertron happened." Wing finally said.

"It's not that simple." Pyra steeled herself. "Dai wasn't on Cybertron."

"Yes, well." Wing froze, every part of him held still. "Dai Atlas knew that what we were wasn't something he wanted."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No." Wing pulled her closer, plating jittering. "He was always the best of us at denying the temptation of a visit.”

"Do you miss him?" She didn't need to ask. She knew. She felt it.

Wing didn't answer. Something flickered next to them, a blue and red half-greyed mess. They flinched as one.

"Orion?" Pyra ventured.

"Broken, broken, it's all broken, it's going to break." Orion muttered, not looking at them.

"Pyra." Wing said.

"I know." She vented, extricating herself from his hold to kneel in front of Orion. His optics darted all over her face, seeing nothing. His legs were completely greyed out, unmoving; dead plating. His digits scratched insistently at his chest, the paint nanites there completely worn away. Pyra reached out and gripped his digits.

"Pyra, we don't have any _time_."

She felt Wing's fear double her own and cycled her intake. "We have a klik."

Orion blinked down at his digits caught in Pyra's, not understanding. She lifted them to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "Orion, sweetspark, it's Pyra."

"Pyres." Orion muttered, fast and fearful. "Towering pillars of smoke as far as the optic can see, nothing but pyres stacked with the dead frames of friends and lovers and new builds. So many new builds, nothing but new builds left and then they burn too."

Orion's optics cleared for one moment, staring into her own. He spoke with the same soft seriousness to his tone that he’d always had. "Pyra. They're all going to die. They always do."

Pyra flinched. Orion's optics clouded over once more. Wing gripped her shoulder and yanked her away. "Put your blocks back up. He's coming."

Pyra watched Orion scratch frantically at his chest plates. Purple flickered in the corner of her optic. Wing's digits dug into her shoulders.

She closed her optics and slammed her blocks back into place. The room was silent, but for her fans, straining at their top speed. She vented slowly, pulling in vent after vent until her fans slowed to a stop. The tile was cool under her digits.

"Stupid," She whispered, "Stupid, foolish."

Her Spark ached.

Pyra vented once more and stood carefully, opening her comm. Jumpstream answered after a ping. "Pyra?"

"Do you and Stormclash have room for one more tonight?"

Pyra listened to the inaudible soft murmuring, closing her optics against the ache that swamped her Spark once more. Jumpstream said softly. "Of course. Did you—?"

"Just to sleep." Pyra took one last look at her desk and turned, walking towards Jumpstream's quarters.

"Lucky you, we were just headed to berth." Jumpstream said. Pyra heard Stormclash mutter something and smiled, just a little. "You'll let yourself in?"

"Yes. I'll be there in ten." Plenty of time for Jumpstream to mollify and calm Stormclash. She disconnected the comm and slowed her steps, letting her digits trail along the wall. "One cycle at a time, Pyra. Just one more."

She'd remind herself again tomorrow as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. for those keeping score our revealed clusters are as follows:  
> main: drift, prowl, velocity, megatron, arcee, minimus, starscream, mystery eighth :)  
> side:  
> 1\. liege maximo, megatronus, alchemist (maccadam), vector, alpha trion  
> 2\. cyclonus, whirl, tailgate, brainstorm, rodimus   
> 3\. pyra magna, wing, dai atlas, orion pax, mystery fifth >:)  
> 4\. combaticons (swindle, onslaught, blast off, vortex, brawl)


	8. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Moment of truth, _Enforcer_." Liege gave him a long look and vanished. Prowl stood, still frozen, staring at the other three. Something brushed against his back, between his doorwings. Someone.
> 
> "Prowl," Megatron murmured, "You knew it would come to this. One day. Justice or order."
> 
> It was Megatron's servo, he realized. His sensornet felt far away, processor spinning too quickly to register it as important. His TACNET was hot weight just under his chest, running through scenario after scenario, responses by the millions spinning from each one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay!! i took one week off intentionally, and then another unintentionally owing to how big this chapter is...
> 
> Warnings: depictions of withdrawal, government conspiracy tag really gets a workout here, plus some general Crimes committed by said government conspiracy, some bits where in order to run a short con sex work is implied in a very badly stereotyped fashion.

It wasn't precisely that Minimus was bored.

There was plenty to do around the office. Things that he was more than capable of doing. Things that he _wanted_ to do. It was just the nature of his circumstance that he was forgotten more often than not.

He tapped his digits against the desktop quietly, chancing a glance around him. Every mech had their helms down, diligently working away at datapads. He looked at his incoming box. It was empty. It was too early to file his outgoing still. He suppressed an exvent and turned to the internal puzzle games Rung had gotten him unfortunately hooked on, setting a proximity alert should anyone need him.

He was just getting down to the fiddly part of the third one when his surroundings melted away, leaving him in an organic field. Minimus blinked. The softly swaying green grasses towered over his helm, completely hiding the small clearing he was in. He turned slowly, stopping when his optics alit on dirty white plating. "Ah."

"Wha—?" Drift's optics blinked awake, slowly brightening. "Oh. I— Hi, Minimus."

"Surely you have a _home_?" Minimus grimaced. "You used to appear clean at least."

"It's complicated." Drift's shoulders slumped. He finished pushing himself upright, drawing his knees up to rest his helm on. "Why're you here?"

"I don't know." Minimus scuffed a pede across the matted down grass they were upon. "I was bored, I suppose."

"It's kinda boring here." Drift agreed. His biolights were dim, movements slow, and armor dulled. "I'm trying to decide if it's better..."

"Doubtful." Minimus picked his way over carefully, sitting a few mechanometers from Drift. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." Drift huffed. "Really just— Always a pleasure Minimus."

"Stop it." Minimus folded his arms over his chest. "Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything." Drift turned his helm to look at Minimus, still resting it on his knees.

"Exactly. Don't just...accept it." Minimus fiddled with his axillary vent, the nervous movement hidden under his arm where no one could see it. He knew Drift did. Drift saw...too much.

"Why not?" Drift vented slowly, like each intake of air was a chore. "It's not like anything I'm doing is useful. It's not like I can _help_."

"Just because it's not useful doesn't mean it's not important." Minimus grimaced again, Rung's glyphs in his mouth unfamiliar.

Drift laughed, a creaking, groaning thing. "I know you don't believe it when Rung says that to you."

"Shut up." Minimus felt his face heat.

"Thought you didn't want me to?" Drift taunted, something livelier sparkling behind his optics. Minimus tamped down the urge to stick his glossa out at him.

"I want you to stop speaking to me, not in general." Minimus settled on, casting his gaze back to the grass around them. "You're almost back, aren't you?"

"Not much different than here." Drift exvented softly.

"Well, there has a washrack and energon." Minimus reached over and swiped a digit across Drift's shin plating. He left a trail. "Which would be a marked improvement."

Drift shrugged. "At least out here I know I'm not being purposely ignored."

Minimus's spark wobbled in his crystal. "Yes, well—"

"Not to make this about your weird berth games." Drift said before he could finish that thought that was going nowhere. Minimus knew his face had flushed again and his optics snapped back to Drift's impish grin.

"Unbelievable." Minimus sniffed. "To think, for a moment I was feeling _sorry_ for you."

"For me?" Drift gasped, the sound entirely fake. Minimus bit back a growl. "Why Minimus you _shouldn't have_!"

His vocalizer took on the grating tone Minimus remembered from his first few orn online. Surrounded by simpering mechs all looking to find foothold with the newest member of the Ambus family, to find favor where they hadn't before. He hated it. Drift undoubtedly knew it.

"I changed my mind. Stay out here and starve."

Drift _giggled_ and for a moment Minimus saw past the grime and airs he put on. Saw an achingly young mech that clearly didn't laugh enough. Minimus looked away. Drift quieted, and the grass rustled. Minimus looked back at him slowly levering himself to his pedes, swaying just slightly. "Alright. I suppose I should go throw myself in a washrack."

"Please." Minimus stood as well, pushing forward through the grass in the direction Drift knew to be correct. "I'd say energon was a more pressing matter but I think you might flake something off into it and get sick."

"What about energon _in_ the washrack?" Drift mused, steps faltering. He half-tripped every few strides, his frame not receiving the correct instructions to lift his pedes.

"Do you want to drink cleanser?" Minimus asked lightly, and didn't think about the times that he had tried just that. In that name of efficiency. He did think about Rung laughing at him every time it went wrong.

Drift stumbled again, servo pressing against his chest. "Oh. You— Oh."

"I what?" Minimus slowed just enough to put him next to Drift. Just in case.

"You _love_ him." Drift said, wonder on his face. "That's— Wow. I can feel it. It's...really nice. That certainty, happiness."

Minimus shut down the processing tree that started up, wondering just how young Drift really was. "It is, yes."

The grass finally thinned and they broke free, right in front of the facility. Minimus peered at it, hand shading his optics. "Well, that's...ostentatious."

Drift laughed, the sound a little muzzy. "Yeah, it's— Yeah."

Minimus glanced back and forth between the buildings and Drift. "I see where you got your decorating tips."

"I'm going to get in the washrack." Drift's steps were still wavering, but Minimus could feel him concentrating to keep himself steady. He could feel the need for that pride bolstering his exhausted frame. He understood. "And then see if there's any paint on the premises."

Minimus hesitated. He felt his proximity alert pinging. He needed to get back but, "I can help you mix something. You'd be amazed what paint nanites will cling to."

Drift didn't answer, but his shoulders pulled just a bit straighter and his steps grew more sure.

\- - -

Starscream pressed his face farther into the bolster and did his best to ignore the screaming only he could hear.

His mouth was dry and every circuit he had felt itchy. He wanted to recharge, desperately, but his frame wouldn't slow down; his processor wouldn't stop racing. The yelling moved until it was right next to his audial.

"You did this! Sticking your thrusters where they didn't belong! Asking for more than you deserved!"

Starscream clapped his servos over his audials, scratching at his helm. Large, gentle servos peeled them away. "Starscream."

"Make it _stop_." Starscream's vocalizer was even scratchier than usual. He hated it. Just another thing that would never go away.

"I wish I could." Soundwave's voice was smooth, deep and quiet, just like—

"It's _your fault_!"

Starscream winced, screwing his optics shut even tighter, like that might stop anything. Soundwave's servos still held his own. "It will stop. You just have to let the remnants flush. Your processor is already doing all the work."

"Why weren't you with us, Star? We could have left if we didn't have to go looking for you."

A sob wracked his frame. Soundwave's servos tightened on his and pulled, until Starscream was curled up tightly in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Keep talking." Starscream latched on. The yelling...the yelling wouldn't stop, but that soft pleading could be drowned out. "Why— What are you doing here? How do you know Jazz?"

"I was sent here to monitor the Soundblaster situation," Soundwave said. His servos smoothed down Starscream's back, over his trembling wings. "Megatron had a feeling I should be here and it's foolish to ignore his feelings. Mostly."

Starscream snorted. He felt more than heard Soundwave's laughter. It smothered itself after a moment. "Jazz...I met Jazz vorns ago, in Uraya."

"What were you doing in Uraya?" Starscream grit his denta against the onslaught of curses that were being thrown his way.

"We were both casing the same building to rob," Soundwave said plainly, and Starscream's laughter was torn out of him.

"Of course." Starscream shivered. Offered his own memories. "I tried to pick his subspace."

Soundwave's laughter was loud this time. Starscream turned his face into his neck, trying to feel the sound as much as possible. "And here I thought Jazz didn't have a type."

"A type." Starscream repeated slowly. His processor felt slow. Soundwave had ensured that it was just busy doing other things. Starscream tried not to hate it. "So, you did..."

"Yes," Soundwave finally said when Starscream couldn't make himself continue. "For a long time."

Starscream frowned, trying to catch the tail end of each fleeting text string that passed by. "But. Why aren't you still? Jazz is... _Jazz_ , and you're warm and smart and—"

He managed to snap his mouth shut before the glyphs _handsome_ fell out. As it was, he was glad his frame was already overheating or his mortification might have been more obvious. Soundwave didn't laugh at him though, just hummed a soft note and kept running his servos down Starscream's back. "Jazz is, indeed, Jazz. At the time, I couldn't accept that."

Starscream mulled this over. He wasn't sure he could relate, but maybe he could understand. "Well, what about now?"

Soundwave's servos stilled. Starscream tried to push himself closer. Soundwave exvented, before chuckling. It was an entirely fake sound. "Now? He's in love with you, Starscream."

Starscream opened his optics and pushed back. The yelling mech was gone, the pleading one with him. Starscream shook his helm, trying to concentrate. "I didn't ask about me."

"You are rather important." Soundwave's optics darted over his face, never settling on anything for longer than a nanoklik. Starscream frowned. Soundwave shook his helm. "Also, you're purging the remnants of a number of a quickprograms. I'm amazed you’re online right now. Forget it."

Starscream didn't let himself be pulled back down to Soundwave's chest. He just held still, staring at him. Soundwave's white face didn't hide any of the energon that slowly flushed it.

"Starscream." Megatron's voice was impossibly soft. His servo hovered over Soundwave's shoulder. "Be careful with him."

Starscream nodded. He let himself slump back down, tucking his face into Soundwave's neck once more. His circuits still itched horribly, and but his processor had finally slowed a little. "Might recharge on top of you."

"That's alright." Soundwave's servos took their soft stroking back up. Starscream closed his optics and turned this new problem over and over in his processor until he couldn't think anymore.

\- - -

Velocity blinked sluggishly at the knock on her hab door. The datapad she was perusing had gone dim by the time she connected the sound to the action that must have caused it. She yawned, stretching her arms up until her back strut creaked. "Ugh."

She grasped the couch behind her and levered her frame upwards, extricating herself from the towers of datapads around her. She still toppled one over. " _Ugh_."

It took three tries until she managed to hit the pad to open the door correctly. It slid to the side to reveal Nautica holding takeout and two bags slung to her back. "I come bearing sustenance."

Velocity raised an optical ridge. "And all your possessions?"

"Yeah." Nautica pulled the glyphs out. "Can we do the bribing bit first? I got those weird dumpling things you like."

"They're not _weird_." Velocity stepped back and let her in.

"They have liquid inside them." Nautica dropped her bags by the floor and set one of the containers down on the only spare corner left on her low table. "It's super weird."

"You're weird," Velocity grumbled, but set to work moving some datapads around so they could actually sit on her couch. The thing meant for sitting. Nautica poked at a few of them.

"Separating Selves: Consent In Semblances?" Nautica raised an optical ridge. "Saucy."

Velocity snatched it from her, ignoring her own furious blush. "It's a valid concern. One of my Semblance is conjunxed. I'm trying to make sure I'm prepared."

"Prepared for your weird Spark threesome?" Nautica waggled her optical ridges. Velocity dropped the last stack of datapads to the floor and swiped her container to hide behind.

"Thanks for the dumplings." Velocity muttered, levering the top off. Nautica sat next to her, knocking their knees together.

"Duh." Nautica busied herself with her own solid energon bars, dropping some of the cracklings into Velocity's.

"So." Velocity poked at one of the dumplings. "What precisely am I being bribed into?"

"A roommate?" Nautica smiled winningly. Velocity rolled her optics.

"How long?"

"Until I find a new place?"

Velocity dropped her container in her lap and stared at Nautica. "What _happened_?"

"Nothing really." Nautica dithered with her own fuel. "I think I'm just tired of the group living. It's really...loud."

"You like loud." Velocity picked up a dumpling and chewed it, the titanium-silver gel bursting over her glossa.

"Maybe I'm finally maturing, I dunno." Nautica crunched a crackling between her denta.

Velocity couldn't look at her. She was still trying to figure out what to say when a pink mech appeared on the other side of the table. She blinked, looked at the two of them for a long klik, then started laughing. Velocity rolled her optics. "You must be Arcee."

"Oh." Nautica knocked their knees together again. "The other member of the threesome here?"

Arcee laughed so hard no sound escaped, and Velocity was pretty sure her dermametal was going to burst with how much energon was running through it. She hissed, "Nautica."

"What?" Nautica kept chewing, but Velocity could see the upturn of her lips in the corner of her optics. "It's just something to be prepared for."

"Velocity?" Arcee finally managed to gasp.

"Hi." Velocity focused back in on her dumplings.

"Those are pretty good." Arcee hummed. "We on Caminus?"

"You know Caminus?" Velocity perked up. "Everyone else seems to be on Cybertron."

"I am too." Arcee looked around her hab, optics darting between windows and doors. "But yeah, I've been to Caminus. Lived there for a while."

"Really?" Velocity jostled Nautica. "Has anyone ever left Caminus?"

"We just launched our first probe, like, ever. I don't think so," Nautica said.

"It was a long time ago." Arcee's optics were distant. "I didn't realize you'd all cut yourselves off. Huh."

She blinked back out of existence. Velocity jumped at the rattle near her elbow. Drift was sitting on the ground, paging through some of her datapads. He smiled sheepishly up at her. "Just ignore me."

"Apparently, I'm a superhighway now." Velocity sighed and leaned against Nautica just a little. "Sure you wanna stay with me? There's a lot of mysterious company that only I can see."

"Mm." Nautica leaned back against her. Velocity ignored the off cycle of her spark. "I think I'm just gonna have to learn to love it."

Velocity also ignored the snickering at her elbow.

\- - -

Arcee switched from pacing the width of her cell to pacing the diameter. Whirl still wasn't back. Cyclonus wasn't talking to her anymore. She couldn't believe she was missing ambient chatter, but apparently someone could get used to things like that.

Plus, there wasn't much else to get used to in here.

"You're going to throw off your gyro alignment; the room is too small."

Arcee didn't stop moving, just turned her helm to glare at Megatron. He shrugged. "Or so Ratchet is always telling me."

"At least you can _leave_." Arcee forced through grit denta, hating that it had taken Whirl leaving for her to realize just how much that was grating at her. Megatron's optics were entirely too discerning as he looked placidly back.

"Kaon is not that large." He said, settling back more comfortable on her berth slab. "And I am...let's say well known."

The scenery shifted, taking them to a room just as grey and empty as hers, but with dark, sickly light barely filtering through. She wandered over to the window and peered through the scratched paint covering it. It faced the sheer wall of another building built too close. Arcee huffed and ran her digits over the small glass mobile hanging there.

"I imagine I'm the closest to understanding just what you're feeling at this moment." Megatron was staring at the ceiling from his own berth. "Well, perhaps Drift."

They shifted once again, to a stark white room with a few blunted training weapons scattered about. If she couldn't feel him in her Spark, Arcee might have thought Drift was dead, for how deeply he was recharging. Megatron snorted a laugh. She looked at him carefully. "He's young, isn't he?"

"I imagine we're all young to you." Megatron said mildly. They flickered back into her cell.

"Some more than others." Arcee said, taking her laps back up. Megatron exvented and pushed to his pedes.

"Alright," He said, rolling his helm and dropping into a basic stance. "Let's do this."

Arcee raised an optical ridge. "You sure about that?"

Megatron kept his optics on her. Smart, she had to concede. "Absolutely not. But it's better than the alternative of you complaining about misaligned gyros."

"What do they make mechs out of these days?" Arcee slowed to stop, turning to face him. "Can't even turn in circles."

Arcee darted forward and knocked Megatron's left arm away, leaving a stinging strike against his collar and pulling back. Her pede caught on something as she tried to step back out, causing her to stumble and nearly fall. She caught herself and pulled her block up, just deflecting a punch to her face.

She bounced outside of Megatron's reach again, raising an optical ridge. "You're fast. I would have thought with your frame you would keep your pedes planted, but you nearly tripped me there."

Megatron shrugged, moving silently with her, keeping them face to face. "Not learning to move would be a fairly obvious weakness, and I'm still here aren't I?"

"So am I." Arcee grinned and attacked again. Megatron darted out with a jab that was almost a surprise. She took the hit, stepping in close enough to get him in her reach and used the left hook he was throwing to guide her movements, follow the turn of his frame. His right servo glanced off her helm as she moved past it, trying to slide around him to reach his back.

Megatron diverted the hook into momentum to spin with her, keeping her at his front. Arcee bared her denta. He really was _fast_ , considering that frame. She took the chance and jumped while he was still spinning, launching herself past his reach again. She hooked her pede around his knee as she went, planting her servos on the ground and pulling. Megatron, already off balance from the punch drive spin, toppled backwards.

She freed her pede and dropped her elbows so she rolled, coming up in a crouch. Megatron hadn't fallen hard either, also already up in a crouch, still facing her. She quirked an optical ridge. "Not bad."

"You could kill me if you truly wanted to, couldn't you?" Megatron asked, but it was with laughter. She felt her own answering laughter mix with his in their Spark and grinned.

It was easy enough to settle into the spar, removing all thought except where her body was, where her opponent's body was, where both would be in the next cycle of their sparks. Megatron didn't pull his punches, and neither did she. Not that they could leave any permanent marks on the other, but the clash of plating was satisfying nonetheless.

The space reverberated with an almighty clang, the turning of locks.

Arcee whipped her helm around to the bars and got a solid punch to her abdomen as payment for her lapse in concentration. Megatron stopped once he realized she had, heaving vents coming up next to her to stand at the bars. "D'you think—?"

"Dunno." Arcee dropped her helm against the bars, trying to see down the hallway. It sloped out of sight in just a way to completely cut off any possible hope of seeing. "Hope so."

It was eerily silent. Arcee dialed up her audials, straining for any whisper of plating against plating. There was nothing. She didn't move.

Cyclonus exvented a small sound.

Whirl...Whirl's frame came in sight from around the bend, moving utterly silently. His optic was still utterly blank, not looking anywhere but his destination. His bars slid open to admit him and then closed again. He stood there for a long few kliks.

Arcee blinked and his plating shivered all over, hydraulics hissing as he dropped to the floor. He groaned, "Slag it all. He always keeps me dark way too long."

"Hey Whirl," She choked out, spark cycling in her throat.

"Pinky." Whirl turned his optic housing to give her a crescent optic grin. His optic softened. "Hey. Hey, Cyc. It's okay."

Arcee cycled her intake and turned around, dropping back on her berth slab. Megatron looked between her and Whirl for a second before nudging her pede with his own. "My place. I'm ahead by two points."

"You absolutely aren't," She said, but grinned and followed when Megatron winked out of existence. Whirl and Cyclonus deserved the privacy.

\- - -

Prowl marched carefully up the Senate building steps, keeping an even pace for Barricade to periodically slip past or fall behind. "C'mon Prowl, this is exciting! Act just a little excited for once, for me."

"I'm expressing as much excitement as I please to." Prowl cast his optics upward to the soaring golden towards the Senate building, hating the uncertainty that swirled in his TACNET. He'd received the reassignment orders the cycle before, just as he'd been about to recharge. No doubt carefully timed.

Minimus walked next to him, somehow keeping pace despite the how the height of the steps was no doubt uncomfortable. "I did always hate this building."

"You've been here?" Prowl murmured when Barricade lagged behind again.

"I'm tasked with a lot of deliveries that are too sensitive for a courier service." Minimus's mouth twisted. "Also, we had to file to conjunx here."

"Of course." Prowl considered the building. "I would think it easier to set up buildings to apply for conjunxing or similar tasks in each city. More efficient."

"But then those kinds of services would be widely available to any mech, and the Senate can't have that, can they?" Megatron interjected. Prowl ignored him.

"There are plenty of things that could be easier." Minimus shrugged, not looking at either of them.

"I don't like this mystery transfer." Megatron muttered.

"Good thing it's not yours then." Prowl muttered back, cycling his intake when Barricade caught up again.

"Aw, don't make that face, mech. I'm comin'." Barricade did manage to stick himself to Prowl's side as they reached the main doors. He presented their credentials to the security mechs outside while Prowl surveyed the building closer. It seemed to be covered in raised scrollwork that had no purpose but to catch the light of the Sol.

"Nothing but indulgence." Megatron grumbled. Prowl ignored him again, just as he was continuing to ignore the phantom sensation of Megatron's digits in his chest.

The doors opened, and security ushered them through. Senator Lanthanide was waiting behind them. "Good to see you again, Enforcers. This way."

A door that Prowl might not have noticed off to the side of the atrium opened as Lanthanide approached. Prowl controlled his vents carefully. Minimus said, "Not to pick up Megatron's banner but...I don't like this."

Prowl followed Lanthanide and Barricade down a sloping set of stairs. His TACNET idly tracked just how far they were descending, sending him a small ping to indicate when they hit the surface of Cybertron and kept going. The stairs stopped finally. His TACNET informed him that they were thirty-six mechanometers below the surface of the planet. Fifty-four beneath the Senate floor.

"Gentlemechs, I apologize for the lack of information regarding your new assignment." Lanthanide cycled his intake noisily. "This new taskforce you have been recruited for requires the utmost secrecy and anonymity."

"Of course, sir." Barricade snapped to attention. Prowl kept his gaze level, dipping his helm slightly.

Lanthanide perused them both and nodded. "Select members of the Committee for Cybertronian Advancement have determined that a special task force needed to be convened in order to work with a private contractor that has been instrumental in ensuring the protected future of our planet."

Prowl kept his optics on Lanthanide, but he caught Minimus and Megatron moving around the room in small flickers of color. They spoke to each other in hushed tones.

"—familiar, but I can't understand how—"

"—see how thick these walls are? It can't only be for loadbearing, that would be built into the planet itself—"

"—keeping something in? But what—"

"—right, this is familiar. I don't—"

"—like this one bit.—"

"There will be no confidentiality contract of any sort, nor will we be altering your processing capabilities to monitor you. This is a position of trust." Lanthanide turned away.

"Translation: we'll know if you talk no matter what, and we'll kill you if you do." Drift murmured behind Prowl's audial. "Charming new boss, really."

"Please, follow me." Lanthanide turned and continued down the narrow hallway. Barricade shot Prowl a quick look before following. Prowl took a nanoklik to look at his Sparkmates. Drift looked resigned, Minimus concerned, but Megatron...Megatron looked thoughtful.

"I think..." Megatron trailed off and looked at where Lanthanide and Barricade were walking ahead. "I think you should go with them. Keep feeding your emotional subproccesses into your TACNET. Do. Not. React."

He vanished, but Prowl could still feel—

"Enforcer Prowl!"

Prowl dipped his helm and started forwards. "Apologies. I was merely organizing a new storage file tree for this assignment."

"Understandable, but please. Keep up." Lanthanide turned back, and Barricade shot him a glare. Prowl put his head down and worked to catch up. "It has been brought to our attention that there is a new type of Cybertronian walking amongst us. One with frames that look like our own, processors that act like our own, but with sparks that behave very strangely."

Prowl ignored the twisting of his own spark, the small sound Minimus made behind him. Barricade hummed a considering note. "Such as outlier ability mechs or point one percenters, sir?"

"Something like that." Lanthanide agreed, leading them through several turns. The sound grew more and more muffled to Prowl's audials. Their pedesteps that should have echoed just...stopped. "But with far more disastrous consequences."

Prowl felt something in his Spark, thundering like the distant storms over the Hydrax Plateau. It wasn't an off cycle, or something like a coronal flare. It was something...familiar.

"In the days before the Golden Age, Cybertronians existed in close communities." Lanthanide's pace never slowed, never stumbled with his words. Something like dread continued to rise in Prowl's Spark. "Closed communities. Groups constantly fighting with each other over resources. There was no advancement. No refinement. No _society_."

"Until the first Quintesson War forced the groups to come together against a common enemy." Barricade nodded along. "Opening the lines of communication between them and allowing them to come together to develop Cybertron as a unified whole."

"You know your history." Lanthanide obviously approved. Barricade's doorwings lifted up in happiness. Prowl suppressed the desire to roll his optics.

"A unified Cybertron is a powerful Cybertron." Lanthanide continued, "Something that became obvious as the population grew. What do you know of the Tragedy at Vos?"

Prowl glanced down as digits slipped into his, Starscream looking impossibly small in the limited space of the hallway. He cycled his intake. "There was an accident at the Frame Processing Plant there. A catastrophic combination of harvested Well sparks and hyper-refined frame starting energon. They ignited with enough force to level the city in its entirety. There were...limited survivors."

"Almost no full trines." Starscream whispered, "Just single and paired mechs with their wings clipped."

"There's still a rousing debate that gets brought up between a few of us whether it was their factory Seeker frames or merely primitive instinct that caused them to close ranks against the rest of Cybertron." Lanthanide said, like this was...like it was _funny_. Starscream's digits tightened in his, claws out and pricking into the back of his servo. "As it was, we saw the beginning of something that needed to be ended. And fast."

Prowl's Spark constricted, grief and fury and disbelief. Barricade made a considering sound. "What was that, sir?"

"Rebellion." Lanthanide clipped the glyph, making it sound like an electrowhip crack. "The Seekers closed ranks around Vos and refused to take Senatorial orders. That could not be tolerated."

"What were the orders?" Minimus said, asking what Prowl could not.

"History has proven time and time again that Cybertronians who band together will be infinitely more dangerous than those on their own." Lanthanide paused in front of a heavy door with several large locks, turning to face them.

"They're also healthier." Minimus drew Starscream away from Prowl, pulling them back behind where Prowl couldn't see. "Community connections are vital to our continued happiness as a species."

"You believe Rung when he says _that_." Drift murmured.

"Actions have been taken in the wake of Vos to ensure that we need not take such...extreme measures again." Lanthanide surveyed them both. Prowl didn't flinch under his gaze. "There have been some unforeseen slips, but largely, we have been successful."

"Zoning Bill 813.54." Minimus said. He sounded disgusted. "Drift, keep me filled in on the rest of this nonsense. I'm getting Starscream out of here."

"I'm fine," Starscream said, voice tight.

"You're debugging." Minimus said, tone brooking no argument. "Drift?"

"Yeah. Obviously," Drift said.

"Nothing about you is obvious."

"Aw, Mins, you're so nice to me."

"If you ever call me that again I'm mixing you acid instead of paint."

Prowl felt the weight on his Spark lessen, letting the thundering pulse in it grow stronger. Lanthanide continued, and Prowl knew that somehow only a few nanokliks had passed. _Time dilation_ , his TACNET whispered, _communication at the speed of instant processing._ "This new development threatens those preemptive actions."

"We're not _new_." Liege Maximo popped out from behind Lanthanide, despite being nearly twice his height. "Just because he's only found out about us doesn't mean we haven't always been here."

"As I said before—" Lanthanide folded his servos behind his back.

"Oh he thinks he's important, huh?" Drift snorted.

"—it has been brought to our attention there there is a new type of Cybertronian among us. Sets of mechs with a single unified spark. Mechs with the ability to communicate and share knowledge through that spark. Mechs that cannot be isolated."

He turned and started on the several door locks. Liege Maximo circled Prowl and Barricade. "Amazing. I'll never get over their sheer _arrogance_."

"Brother." An expansive voice whispered, attached to no one that Prowl could see. He did see Liege's mouth twist. "This is not for them to know yet. It could rend their Spark. They will find out in due time."

"Just because—" Liege vanished midglyph.

The final lock thunked open, the sound large enough to nearly echo in the muffled space. The thundering in Prowl's Spark grew louder, stronger. The hallway they passed into was a dull, rough grey. A familiar dull, rough grey.

"Oh _slag_." Drift hooked a servo around Prowl's elbow. "Don't look them in the optic. It's how we connect outside clusters. You can't do that, not right now."

"Our private contractor has helped us secure several samples of this new species." Lanthanide spoke idly, like he wasn't discussing _mechs_. "They are being held here for the time being while he's doing work off world."

"It's the Hunter." Drift laughed, a bit hysterically. "You're working for the Hunter now."

They turned a corner and came up on sets of bars set into the walls. Prowl cycled his intake, and looked up slowly. Arcee, actual, in the mesh Arcee, stared back at him. Megatron stood behind her, whispering in her audial. Her face twisted. If Prowl didn't feel her racing fear and consideration in his Spark, he might have thought it disgust. Lanthanide waved a servo. "Your job will be to help him hunt down and capture these threats to peaceful society."

Lanthanide looked back over his shoulder, over the delicate wheel system on his back. His denta flashed in the harsh overhead light. "By any means necessary."

\- - -

"You're the new Semblance mech!"

Velocity teetered precariously where she was reaching for a datapad on the top shelf only barely steadied herself with her free servo on a lower shelf. "Uh—?"

"That's so cool! What's it like being in a Semblance? Pyra _never_ talks about it anymore, which is dumb, but Jumpstream says we have to 'respect her boundaries' or whatever." There was another Torchbearer beaming up at her. Velocity cycled her intake and dropped back down flat on her pedes. "Like Stormy isn't pushing any boundary she can find, mostly with her gloss—"

There was a low WHOP and another Torchbearer appeared behind the first, clapping a servo over her mouth. " _Rust Dust_."

Velocity was fairly certain the sound muffled against— Jumpstream, it had to be —Jumpstream's palm was Rust Dust saying, "What?"

Jumpstream started hissing something in Rust Dust's audial. Velocity watched them for a second before turning back to shelf, straining up again. The datapad was _right there_ , and if she concentrated on that hard enough maybe she could ignore the racing cycle of her spark and not freak out about there being _Torchbearers—_ actual Torchbearers! —right there. Which was all well and good until a gray hand on the end of another cyan arm appeared in her line of sight to pluck the datapad off the shelf easily.

Velocity cycled her intake and turned. A _third_ Torchbearer leaned over her, visor hiding her optics, but smirk on her mouth well on display. Velocity denied the request for her cooling fans to turn on. The Torchbearer waved the datapad. "This the one you needed?"

"I—"

"Stormclash." Stormclash looked over at Jumpstream's call and grinned. Velocity denied another request, looking over as well. Jumpstream still had her servo over Rust Dust's mouth, but she was staring at Stormclash intently. "Stop harassing her."

"Aw, Jumper, I'm just sayin' hi." Stormclash did push off the shelf though, giving Velocity some room to vent. "No harassing here."

"I'm sure." Jumpstream gave her a look that Velocity couldn't interpret before turning to look at her. "Sorry about them."

"It's...okay?" Velocity fumbled and caught the datapad that Stormclash tossed at her, hugging it to her chest. "I was just, um, surprised."

"Sorry!" Rust Dust had managed to pry Jumpstream's servo off her face. Velocity could see her arms shake where she held it down. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

"Rusty. Library. Shh." Stormclash sauntered over and pulled Rust Dust from Jumpstream's hold, tucking her under her arm. "Inside voices."

"Right," Rust Dust whispered. It was still very loud. "Sorry!"

"It's been awhile since we had a new Semblance mech." Jumpstream offered, shrugging one shoulder. "At least one that announced themselves. We've all been kind of curious since Sky said she'd seen you."

"Oh, I—" Velocity snapped her mouth shut before she could say anything disastrously stupid. As usual, it didn't actually stop her. "I'm Velocity."

"We know." Stormclash rolled her optics. Jumpstream elbowed her. She just rolled them again and gestured to each of them in turn. "Stormclash, Rust Dust, Jumpstream."

"I, uh, know." Velocity was ignoring the way her face burned. Absolutely. Just like she was ignoring the smirk that was Stormclash's face. Again.

"So, what's it like!?" Rust Dust squeaked out around Stormclash's headlock.

"It's—" Several words rushed to the front of her processor. Amazing. Comforting. Fascinating. Loud. New. What came out of her mouth was, "Scary."

"Scary?" Stormclash scoffed. Jumpstream just tilted her head. Her gaze reminded Velocity of Drift.

"I— Yes." Velocity hugged the datapad a little closer. "It's like having a sparkling, except there's more of them and you can feel every bad thing that happens to them like it's happening to you. You _have_ to keep them safe but...there's only so much you can do."

"Stormclash, take Rust Dust back to her assignment," Jumpstream said.

"Aw, but _Jumper_ ," Rust Dust whined, but curiously Stormclash just nodded.

"Let's go pipsqueak." She hauled Rust Dust up over her shoulder and left. Rust Dust waved at Velocity until they turned the corner out of sight.

"It is scary."

Velocity started and brought her optics back to Jumpstream who was looking at her digits. "What?"

"Feeling responsible for something other than yourself." Jumpstream darted a quick look at Velocity. "Something that you're only a part of and can't control all the way."

"Yeah," Velocity said, feeling lame after that proclamation. "I— Yeah."

Jumpstream looked up again and nodded, seeming satisfied. "I'll let you get back to your studies."

Velocity's comm suite pinged, a new frequency hitting it. Jumpstream offered her a soft smile. "If you ever want to talk."

Another low WHOP and Velocity was alone again. Well, almost alone. Drift looked up from the datapad he was reading at Velocity's table. "I'd have more to say about how unsmooth you are if they weren't so fragging weird."

"Oh, shut up." Velocity nudged him with her hip before sitting again, flicking the datapad she'd been reaching for in the first place on.

\- - -

"You've got a secret."

Megatron looked up from the shipping manifest Impactor had gotten from the twins as well as several cases of their illicitly distilled high grade. Not that anything the twins were doing these days _wasn't_ illicit. Sideswipe had a particular flair for it though.

Ravage sat on the map-scored table in the middle of the room, tail swishing idly through the air where it hung off the edge. Megatron wasn't fooled. He knew when she wanted something. He raised an optical ridge. "I know for a fact that your carrier is still in Protihex."

"He is." Ravage shrugged, a peculiar movement on her frame, but one she carried off nonetheless. "Don't change the subject."

"I have a lot of secrets, Ravage." Megatron exvented and put the manifest down, giving her his full attention. "Just as you do."

"Yours is troubling you." Ravage narrowed her optics. "And it's new. You've been particularly distracted lately."

"Just how long have _you_ been back from Protihex?" Megatron grumbled. She didn't twitch.

"Long enough," Ravage said. She rolled her optics. "You haven't been distracted like this for a long time. It looks a lot like the first few quartex that Ratchet was around."

Megatron pointed at her. "That would have been a disaster and everyone knows it."

"You haven't met anyone new." Ravage jumped from the table to the makeshift desk Megatron was sitting at, not stumbling at all despite the wobble of it. "I can only conclude that they must be someone in that freaky new Spark of yours."

"I haven't _met_ anyone." Megatron huffed, and held her gaze. He knew the game. "Perhaps I'm distracted by all the new information I have access to. It's quite a bit to worry about."

"Mm, that's not it." Ravage yawned widely, flashing her denta right in his face. "You've got _feelings_."

"I feel several things, quite often." Megatron agreed, sitting back in his chair.

Ravage narrowed her optics at him. "You know exactly what I mean. Stop prevaricating."

"I should never have recruited Soundwave." Megatron ran a servo down his face. "If only I'd known you came with him."

Ravage snorted. "Please. He comes with me."

The tension in the room broke with Megatron's chuckle. Ravage leapt onto his shoulder, curling around the back of his helm to lay across them. Megatron leaned forward enough to keep them both comfortable. "You know me too well, Ravage."

"It's a curse." Ravage murmured, dropping her helm down onto her paws, just visible in the corner of Megatron's optic. "You should tell me. You know I don't share."

"I don't think it's anything of note." Megatron didn't think about black and white plating. "It will pass."

"Hm." Ravage yawned again. "Would it kill you to let yourself have something, for once?"

A rush of memories spilled over Megatron. The roar of a chanting crowd. The _rush_ of power through his spark when they quieted to listen to _him_ and only him. Soundwave's concerned optics. Impactor's frown. Ratchet's disapproval. Megatron folded his servos together. "Perhaps."

Ravage managed to give him a _look_. "That's not what I'm referring to and you know it."

"Does one not beget the other?"

"Don't talk like some kind of Golden Age vid hero. It makes you sound like an aft."

Megatron snorted, putting the datapad away and dropping all pretenses of work. "Would you like a drink?"

"Is it Sideswipe's?" Ravage folded her front leg over the other, peering at the shelf Impactor kept their bottles on. "I'm not drinking that slag from Helex."

"The Helex stuff was fine," Megatron said mildly, Swerve's predicament too clear in his processor. Ravage sniffed, but let him pour the both of them a small measure. He held it up and she dipped her glossa in her cube and hummed a pleased sound.

"Keeping yourself from the draw of too much power isn't the same as entirely ascetic living." She finally said after a few kliks of warm silence.

"A wheel at the precipice of a canyon." He felt Ravage's even gaze on the side of his face.

"But are we doomed to fall further should we not indulge safely?" Ravage cocked her helm, audial flicking.

"Y'all gettin' all hypothetical in here?" Impactor held the door open, letting Ratchet through. "Hey, kitty."

"Drill." Ravage said flatly, but there was a sparkle in her optics. "Ratchet."

"Oh sure, _he_ gets respect." Impactor rolled his optics.

"Are you implying Ratchet isn't due respect?" Megatron raised an optical ridge and ignored the curving smile of Ravage's mouth.

"I—" Impactor's vents seized with a small cough. Megatron took Ratchet's smack with dignity even while he choked on his own laughter.

"If you were here for privacy, I'm going to have to claim being here first." Megatron rolled his high grade around in it's cube. Ravage's tail twitched, just barely missing hitting Impactor.

"Shut up." Impactor pulled two chairs over to the desk and grabbed the bottle, pouring two more cubes. "Figured you could use the company."

"I'll take any interruption to my interrogation." Megatron gestured to the seats they were already taking.

Impactor gave him a look. "You okay?"

"Yes?" Megatron didn't think about Prowl in the bowels of the Senate with Arcee; didn't think about Drift not understanding just what his 'teacher' was putting him through; didn't think about Starscream debugging in Protihex.

"It's the anniversary." Impactor kept his gaze to the side. Megatron saw Ratchet's servo brush his.

He blinked. "It is?"

"You _forgot_?" Impactor whipped his helm around. Megatron checked his chronometer.

"I forgot." Megatron sat forward and dropped his weight on his elbows. "I—"

"Good."

They both looked at Ratchet. He knocked back his measure of high grade. "What does an anniversary do except force you to sit around and remember slag that you should forget."

"Some stuff's worth remembering." Impactor servo brushed back against Ratchet's.

"Not this." Ratchet caught their digits together. "Forgetting things like this is healing."

"Anniversary of what?" Prowl's voice was small, and his usually stoic face was drawn, some lag showing through.

"When was the last time you recharged?" Megatron asked.

"One of your imaginary friends here again?" Impactor attempted a smirk, but it was far from the usual mark. Megatron saw Ratchet's digits tighten.

"I'm fine." Prowl was still, betraying the minor shake all over his plating. Megatron raised an optical ridge, but didn't ask anymore.

"Today is the anniversary of the day we left the mines." Megatron lifted his cube and touched it to Impactor's.

"Saw the sky for the first time." Impactor pulled his servo back from Ratchet and sipped his high grade. He nudged Ratchet. "Some good things."

"I reserve judgement." Ratchet groused, but he let their shoulders stay pressed together.

"The mines." Prowl wasn't precisely asking a question. Megatron didn't think he had to answer him.

\- - -

"Do you have a job?"

Minimus paused where he was reading the labels of two different cans Drift had pilfered from the energon processing room. He flickered his optics up to Drift. "Yes, I have a job."

Drift heard the unvoiced 'idiot' and scowled. "I don't know! Velocity has a lot of datapads, and it seems to be, like, a thing. Getting married and having a job."

"You just keep picking up the trashy homemaker stuff that Nautica buys me as a joke." Velocity appeared next to Minimus and grabbed one of the cans from him. "Zinc?"

"He's set on red." Minimus rolled his optics. "Won't see reason at all."

"I like red." Drift wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his smile behind them.

"Any color." Minimus opined. Drift rolled his optics this time. "You're _white_ , you could add _any_ color."

"I _like_ red." Drift nudged his elbow into Minimus's shoulder and received a stinging swat for his troubles. "Ow!"

"That didn't hurt." Minimus dismissed him and grabbed the container back from Velocity, sprinkling it into the bowl they were using. He mixed for a moment and peered in. "Hm. Did you get any copper?"

"Copper isn't an additive, how could I get copper?" Drift exvented. "You said you could figure it out."

"I didn't say I wouldn't figure it out," Minimus muttered, "Velocity, did I say that?"

"Don't bring me into this." Velocity perused the containers. "What about iron?"

Minimus took the container she handed over, cracking it open to look inside. "It might react badly—"

"No, no, see the galinstan stabilizes—"

"Like a binding base, of course."

Drift looked at the two of them. "Would you two like to be alone?"

"Learn chemistry." Minimus dumped some of the iron in and stirred some more. "I think that's the best we're going to do."

"Well, obviously I can only accept the best." Drift looked at the bowl and frowned. "It's...brown."

"It adheres to your paint nanites and changes color." Velocity leaned over the bowl too, their helms brushing.

"Or I could just be painting you brown." Minimus leaned in as well, giving another stir. "It might be better than red."

"He's lying." Velocity grinned at Drift and tapped her chest. "I can feel it."

"I've never lied about anything." Minimus nudged Drift carefully.

"Consummate honesty, all the time." Drift grinned.

"Exactly. Now stand up, where do you want this?"

"Oh." Drift stood and cocked his helm. "I...didn't actually think about this part."

"You're a consummate moron." Minimus exvented, rolling his optics up to the ceiling. "Primus. Alright, I can give you some standard accents. Break up the white so you're not so optic-searing. Like _red_ is going to help that."

"Your conjunx is orange." Drift waved a servo. "Sure, whatever. That sounds nice."

"Shut up about my conjunx, I don't mix his paint." Minimus knelt down and started at his pedes. "Don't move."

"Oh, so you admit it's bad." Drift grinned at Velocity, who was watching the two of them with a small smile.

"I said nothing of the sort."

"Consummate honesty."

"Exactly."

Drift locked his joints and plating, even though the cool touch of the paint made him want to shiver all over. Minimus's brushstrokes were careful but sure, working slowly upwards. Drift laughed when the brush touched his abdominals. Minimus pulled back. "I said don't move. Surely you can follow even that simple instruction."

"Be nice." Velocity hid her smile behind her servo when Minimus looked back.

"Absolutely not," Minimus said, "Then he might think I liked him."

"Don't worry Minimus," Drift shut his vents when Minimus turned back to him with the brush. "I would never think that."

"See that you don't."

Minimus painted up, around Drift's chest and on his shoulders. "Leave your servos as is, I think. Painting servos is a pain and it never lasts."

"I haven't done a repaint in forever." Velocity was considering her own plating. "Maybe I can get Nautica to do some temp paint with me."

"Temp paint?" Drift vented carefully now that Minimus had stepped back.

"Ceremonial stuff." Velocity waved a servo in the air. "Patterns and things for your face that rubs away later, like..."

Drift felt a push on his Spark and image captures popped up in his processor. Face after face from Velocity's memory of lined optics, delicate brushwork on cheeks and mouths; some even with paint on their helms. Drift knew his own optics were wide. "Oh. Can I have that?"

"Temp paint is kind of hard to mix—"

"No, no." Drift stared at Velocity. "With this paint. With the red."

"Drift, that's permanent." Minimus looked like he clearly thought Drift was a few trees short of a whole processor.

"I...want it." Drift couldn't explain why it felt so _urgent_ , just pushed it into their Spark.

Velocity's optics softened. "Yeah...yeah. Okay. Lemme do your helm."

Drift held perfect still while the brush traced some of the smaller planes on his helm. His vision wavered and for a moment he was standing where Velocity stood, paint tracing on her lines. They smiled at each other.

"Hm." She stepped back and considered. "One more. Close your optics."

Drift let his optics fall shut. The brush felt that much colder and wetter against his facial dermametal. Velocity's strokes were long and careful. Perfectly symmetrical. Drift blinked his optics open when she lifted away.

Minimus frowned. "You look ridiculous."

Velocity smiled. "You look perfect."

\- - -

Starscream onlined slowly to voices talking near him. It took him a terrifying moment to figure out where they were coming from. It was Jazz's soft, uneven pedesteps that finally cleared the debugging fog.

"—is he?"

"The worst has passed." Soundwave spoke softly. It was nice, now that Starscream didn't want to rip his own audials out. "He should be fine soon. Just clearing out the last dregs."

"Are you sure?" Jazz was...worried. He was worried and letting it show and Starscream's spark constricted.

Soundwave was quiet for a long klik. "Do you— I can't remember— Did you ever meet Overkill?"

"Little mecha reptile, you were carrier courting when we split." Jazz's voice was unreadable, even to Starscream. "Sounders, whaddya mean you _can't remember_."

"Right. Right, I— That makes sense. The timeline." Soundwave exvented shakily. Starscream heard a soft thump. "I did court him successfully. Bonded. It was...good. It was really good. Frenzy loved him, thought he was the best thing since Rumble."

"I told you he would," Jazz said quietly, so quietly Starscream had to strain to hear him. "Said they'd get along like a hab on fire. Probably literally."

Soundwave's vents were uneven and choked. "Not quite that far but...He was determined to be 'too dangerous to have a proper function.' Frenzy...Frenzy's a little spastic sometimes, but they can't deny he serves his function."

"Soundwave—"

"They took him," Soundwave said, glyphs hollow, "Terminated him. Symbiotes aren't real mechs anyway. What does it matter?"

Starscream's optics burned. He listened to Soundwave's harsh vents, the only sound in the dark hab. He wanted to crawl back into his lap and— He didn't know. He couldn't fix this.

Jazz exvented heavily. "Soundwave, I— You ain't gotta tell me this, mech."

"It takes a lot of quick programs of all kinds all at once to try and forget." Soundwave's voice was still too hollow, too broken for harmonics that were still beautiful to listen to. "I'm just doing what someone did for me. That's how I know. That's why."

"You never judged me," Starscream whispered, looking at Megatron's unreadable optics.

"What good does my judgement do." Megatron looked away, to the door Soundwave and Jazz were behind. "You would find yourself again eventually."

"I'll be careful with him." Starscream finally settled on.

Megatron shot him a half-smile. "Be careful with yourself as well."

The door slipped open and Megatron vanished. Starscream blinked up at the shape of Jazz, his frame cast in shadow by the light behind him. "Hey, hey baby, you online?"

"Not for very long." Starscream's voice was still rough, scratched. Broken. He winced. He was still getting used to noticing it again. "How was, um, work?"

"No shift today, baby." Jazz turned his helm back to look at the door as it slid shut again. "Just doing some stuff to help Swindle."

"What was Swindle's brother's name?" Starscream didn't know why it was important, but his processor was slowly catching back up to speeds he hadn't been used to for a long time, and he was trying to let it make connections before he was quite sure of where they went.

"Oh, uh, Onslaught. Why?"

Starscream hummed. "No reason. Just an errant thought tree."

"Sure, Star." Jazz sat on the berth, picking up Starscream's servo and pressing until his claws flicked out. "You know, I didn't even know you had these."

"I...forgot I did." Starscream admitted. "I think...I think I forgot about a lot of things."

"Oh?" Jazz was horribly still. Starscream curled his digits around his.

"Somehow though..." Starscream pulled Jazz, trying to get him to lay with him. "Somehow I didn't forget anything about you."

Jazz relaxed incrementally and let himself be pulled. "Well, I am pretty memorable."

"Only if you pay attention." Starscream cycled his optics, trying to readjust their focus for Jazz's new proximity. "You spend a lot of time making yourself forgettable."

"Sweet talker," Jazz chuckled and lifted Starscream's still claimed servo to press a kiss to his digits.

Starscream hooked a pede around Jazz's knee, considering his next glyphs carefully. He kept his optics on Jazz's face when he said, "Soundwave pays attention too."

Jazz blinked, looking down and laughing. "Star, baby—"

"No, no, no Star baby." Starscream tightened his grip on Jazz's frame. "Listen to me, okay?"

"It ended between us, Star." Jazz exvented a gusty blast of air. "It ended messy. No comin' back messy."

"You're not supposed to be the fatalistic one here." Starscream leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. "He _pays attention_ Jazz. In all the important ways."

"Star, it's—" Jazz tipped his helm forward, pressing their forehelms together. "I love _you_."

"You two are so fragging similar." Starscream rolled his optics. "I didn't say that you didn't."

"What—?" Jazz pulled back and blinked at him.

"Grounders." Starscream rolled his optics again. "So limited."

"You—" Jazz choked and cycled his intake. " _What_?"

"He pays attention to me too," Starscream whispered, "Have you noticed?"

"You're gorgeous, Star," Jazz whispered back. Starscream's spark panged, remembering whispers and giggles in the dark with someone else, trying not to let the third hear them. "Everyone looks at you."

"No, not looks. _Pays attention_."

"Star—"

"Is it really—" Starscream bit his lip, shaking his helm. "Can you really, honestly, look me in the optics and tell me there's no coming back?"

Jazz opened his mouth and shut it again. His optics searched Starscream's face before drifting over his shoulder to look at the door. "He has loyalties elsewhere."

"So do you." Starscream countered. "So do I. So does everyone."

"I—" Jazz cycled his intake and looked back at Starscream. "No. No, I can't say that. Can't mean it."

"I love you too, you know?" Starscream kissed him, long and sweet. "With or without what this could be."

Blue and purple flickered behind Jazz, energon pink streaking them. Starscream saw their mouths moving even while he moved back in to kiss Jazz.

They didn't make a sound.

\- - -

"Slag. Mech, forget this, I need a clear head."

Barricade tossed the papers he'd been looking at back down on the table. _Papers_. So much of this 'investigation' was on paper. They'd received the storage boxes with a small note that only said 'UNHACKABLE - S' on the top of them.

Prowl didn't like the implications.

"There's always a pattern." Prowl commented mildly, not looking up from his own perusals.

"Well, I can't see one. This slag makes no fraggin' sense. It's all random. There's no connection!" Barricade shook his helm. "I'm clockin' off. Gonna get some recharge and come back with clear optics."

"Fine." Prowl didn't look at him. His spark cycled hard. He saw the patterns. They were obvious, if you knew where to look. His TACNET was running overtime trying to decide if the Hunter saw them too and this was a test, or if it truly was beyond his sight. The odds were terrible either way, so far. "I'm going to keep reading."

"Whatever, mech." Barricade was already half out the door. "I don't care how you flash your lights."

Prowl listened to his receding pedesteps carefully, setting his own pages down and rising silently. He froze when he heard Barricade stumble. "Slag! Get the frag outta my way. Slagging glitching cleaning drone. Typical."

Prowl closed all his vents and kept entirely still. Barricade's angry mutters finally faded, and the heavy locks clanked. Once. Twice. Prowl still didn't move.

A transformation sequence rang down the hall.

Prowl stepped carefully to the door, peering around it, down the hallway with the cells. A small blue and white mech was pressed against the bars, whispering furiously. "No. Cyclonus. Shut _up_ and _listen to me_. We have a plan okay, it'll work, we just need to—"

Visor light shifted to the side and caught Prowl's optics. Something resonated in his Spark and clicked into place. "Oh _slag_."

The mech backed away from the bars slowly. "You're...you're with _him_? No, no, no. Max, you said—"

A pink arm poked out of the cell behind him, clicking her digits. "Hey. Pipsqueak."

The mech cycled his intake and looked at Arcee. She clicked her digits again. "He's undercover. Just like you."

Arcee appeared right next to him. "Decision time, Prowl."

"I—" His spark cycled hard. He thought about the mechs in those boxes of paper. The mechs in these boxes of steel. He thought about Swerve. Megatron flickered in and out in the corner of his optic. "I—"

"I promised them it would all go to plan." Liege Maximo walked into the room, looking around at all the...evidence that they had been given. He held up a servo when Prowl opened his mouth. "Didn’t yet account for your being here."

Liege looked up at the two of them, optics flashing. "I don't mess around when it comes to my kids."

Prowl turned to Arcee and pressed his lips together. She gave him a similar look and blinked away. He turned and walked out the door, processor and TACNET both whirring. The little blue mech was supporting a vastly taller purple mech. "C'mon Cyc. Just—"

Cyclonus pulled him up off the floor suddenly, holding him close. "Tailgate."

Tailgate sobbed once and dropped his helm against Cyclonus's. "Later. We gotta get Whirl knocked out."

"Aw, Legs. How'd you know what I wanted for Sparkthrall?" A voice Prowl vaguely recognized spoke up. He heard Arcee laugh, something wild and...free. Maybe even happy.

They crossed to another cell and put some sort of device on the lock. Arcee snorted. "Whirl, you don't get to make fun of my paint ever again. Look at Cyclonus. You fraggin' _joking_?"

"I never joke about fragging." Whirl said seriously. Prowl watched Tailgate's digits tangle together while the device worked. Cyclonus pressed a servo against his back and he relaxed.

"Love in a cluster." Liege leaned on the hallway wall next to Prowl where he stood frozen in the middle of it. "Completely doomed."

The device beeped and the bars slid open. Whirl clattered to the ground at Tailgate's pedes, optic housing pressed to his chest. Cyclonus covered the both of them in an embrace. Liege snorted. "Frag if it isn't the most spectacular thing in the Universe while it's happening though."

Arcee was still laughing, maybe a little disbelieving now. "Not to interrupt the love here, but anyone gonna let me out?"

The three separated slowly, revealing a stricken Tailgate. "I...We only prepared two lockpickers. That's all we had time for."

"Moment of truth, _Enforcer_." Liege gave him a long look and vanished. Prowl stood, still frozen, staring at the other three. Something brushed against his back, between his doorwings. Someone.

"Prowl," Megatron murmured, "You knew it would come to this. One day. Justice or order."

It was Megatron's servo, he realized. His sensornet felt far away, processor spinning too quickly to register it as important. His TACNET was hot weight just under his chest, running through scenario after scenario, responses by the millions spinning from each one.

Was it his sensornet? Could he _feel_ Megatron when he was hiding mechanometers and mechanometers away in Kaon, buried under the accusations of the Senate and the responsibilities that he had no _need_ to take on. His spark cycled quickly, remembering Megatron's digits brushing the insides of his chest.

"Prowl." Megatron's servo pressed flat on his back. "Please."

He vented slowly and cancelled every subroutine in his TACNET. It _hurt_. Every process there ground to a stop with a screeching rebound of animosity. His emotional subroutine rerouted to his processor. It noted that Megatron's servo was very...large, pressed against his plating.

"This is _not_ a decision." Prowl looked back at Megatron, who stared at him with wide optics. It had been long enough without his emotional subroutines that Prowl couldn't track what his face was doing, but he could feel cleanser gathering in his optics at the hostile _hunger_ his TACNET was throwing at him.

Prowl exvented and stepped away from Megatron's touch, not looking at the overlapping pile of mechs. It didn't...feel any different being in front of Arcee, just a scant step away from her actual frame. Megatron felt just as real.

Prowl opened the panel on his abdomen, the one nearest to his TACNET. "It's not going to be pretty, but it should work."

"Could it be traced back to you?" Arcee bit her lip, optics flickering between his own and his unspooling cables. "Because that's...it wouldn't be worth it."

"Yes, it would." Prowl paused for a moment. "I—"

"Let me see." Minimus ushered Prowl carefully to the side, looking at the lock and then making his way over to the device that Tailgate had used. He hummed after a moment. "May I—?"

Prowl handed his cables over. Minimus's mouth drew up tightly. "This may hurt."

"It's fine." Prowl bit his glossa hard enough to taste frame used energon. Megatron blinked away from down the hallway and Prowl felt warmth at his back again. Minimus scraped at his cables until they revealed the wire he needed, pulling until it snapped.

"There." Minimus waited until he had a full grasp on the cables before letting go. "That should remove your personal imprint. Self-repair will take care of it in the next cycle or so."

Prowl plugged the first cable into the correct space and held the second pressed as best he could against the next. He didn't have the right interface for it, but it would work. It had to. "Arcee, make sure this stays pressed against here."

He turned his thoughts inward as two other sets of digits folded over his own to hold the plug end against the lock. His TACNET roared at him. Nothing definitive, but an overwhelming sense of _bored bored bored hungry h u n g r y_. Prowl directed it to the cables, to the puzzle at the end.

_Unlock_.

His optics dimmed at the rush of power leaving him. It pulled at his spark, and he felt the spasm around his digits that meant it was pulling at his Spark as well. His TACNET dove forward into the problem, every bit of its might pouring into the puzzle, the challenge. It ran possibilities faster and faster. It was _hot_ , so hot under his plating.

Just as he worried it might be too much, his spark cycle starting to slow with the power being pulled from it, his TACNET stopped. Something clicked, and the bars started to slide. Someone else pulled his cables free and spooled them back behind his panel while he reordered his processor, feeding the right subroutines back into the TACNET, opening its access to its internal file system back up.

Prowl heaved a vent and onlined his optics again. His fans were running at full bore, and now that his sensornet was coming back to him he was aware that the plating over his TACNET was hot to the touch. But—

Arcee stepped out of her cell and grabbed him, pulling him forward into a hug. "You stupid, _stupid_ bastard. Don't do that again."

His TACNET rumbled back some kind of agreement. Prowl nodded along with both of them. "No. No, I—"

"We have to _go_."

Arcee pushed him back and wiped the cleanser from his cheeks. She smiled. "Hey. I'm really sorry about this, okay?"

"I understand." Prowl kept his optics open and let his TACNET run the calculations for trajectory and force while Arcee's fist swung at his face.

\- - -

Arcee stepped back while Prowl fell to the floor, shaking her servo out. "Damn. Different from visiting sparring. I'm gonna have to put this new frame through the paces."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Megatron's face was unreadable, but she thought she saw something in his optics where he looked down at Prowl's inert frame.

"Little bit." Arcee shrugged, turning to Tailgate and letting him have his moment. "So, you're Legs?"

Tailgate was tiny, more shoulder than leg. She raised an optical ridge, looking him over. Tailgate kept his helm high. "Whirl thinks he's funny."

"Excuse you." Whirl grumbled, still folded on the ground in such a way to put himself shorter than Tailgate. "I think _nothing_ of the sort. I merely exist and let others draw conclusions about me. Therefore, your conclusion is that I'm funny. Nothing I can do about it."

Tailgate exvented, shaking his helm. "I can't believe I missed you."

"Me neither." Whirl said, voice shakier than Arcee had ever heard it.

Tailgate's entire frame deflated. "Shut up. I’m so annoyed I don't have the time to argue with you."

"Again." Cyclonus dropped a servo on Whirl's optical housing. The contact made his frame tense up for a nanoklik before it relaxed, his optical housing pushing up into the contact. She turned her helm to look at Megatron, give them a moment, but he had disappeared while she was paying attention to the others.

Tailgate turned and popped open a panel on Whirl's cockpit. "Later."

"Later," Whirl agreed, optic turning up into the happiest Arcee had ever seen it, before Tailgate plugged something into one of his ports and it went dark, the rest of his frame collapsing with it.

"He's connected to the Hunter." Cyclonus spoke quickly, optics on the end of the hall that was the exit. "It's not safe until we can get back to our cluster, install a Blocker."

"Not questioning it." Arcee held both servos up. She looked at the three of them. "So, Legs leads the way, you carry Whirl, and I cover?"

"Just so." Liege popped back into existence, clapping his servos together. "Excellent work, Little Bit."

"Frag off Max." Tailgate snarled. Arcee was impressed. "I'm so mad at you right now."

"Be mad at me once you're free and clear." Liege didn't look remotely bothered by this proclamation. "Maybe you'll be so mad that you'll stop talking to me! Wouldn't that be a treat?"

"Shut up, Maximo." Cyclonus grit out, hefting Whirl over his shoulder. Arcee tilted her helm, trying to work out how that could even _work_.

She gave up. "Lead on, Legs."

"That's not— You really don't have to call me that." Tailgate blustered, but turned and marched towards the door. It swung open as soon as he got near.

Arcee snorted. "What wonderfully fortuitous timing."

Tailgate's visor practically _sparkled_. Arcee bit back a louder laugh. The open door settled in her spark, cycling heavily at the prospect of freedom, real and right in front of her. There was a soft answering pulse from the corner of her chest.

The tension grew as they climbed stair after stair. The air grew cooler, and Arcee realized for the first time just how warm it was down in the cells, cloying and heavy with nowhere to go. She and Tailgate managed to keep their steps silent, but Cyclonus clinked just enough with each sway of Whirl's frame against his. Liege flickered between all of them, a ghost with no noise.

The stairs ended in another door. This one stayed closed. Tailgate paused and looked to empty air for a nanoklik. "Slag."

"What?" Arcee's spark cycled hard.

"Guard rotation is off, or—"

"They changed it up." Liege's optics were hard. "Paranoid bastard."

"Is it paranoia if they were right?" Drift hummed. He looked at Arcee and grinned.

She tilted her helm, taking in the new shapes that ran from under his optics to the corners of his mouth. "Velocity?"

"And Minimus," He said. She nodded, giving his whole frame a once over.

"It looks good."

"Thanks." His smile was much smaller in response. Genuine. Her mouth moved with his over the next glyphs. "How many and exactly where?"

"Three." Tailgate said after another nanoklik. "One in the middle of the lobby and two at the building entrance."

"I'll get you close. Get them close. Then it's all you." Drift closed his optics and vented carefully. Arcee blinked and they had switched places. Drift opened his optics and nodded. "Open the door and stay here until we get back."

The door swung in soundlessly and Drift slid through the barest crack. Arcee closed her optics in the hallway and reopened them in the shadows of the lobby. Drift darted from pillar to pillar, heading further into the building until he was clear of the lobby, in a small hallway just branching off from it. He waited a klik, venting silently before giving Arcee a tiny nod.

She felt his apology in their Spark.

He stumbled out into the open, a staggering, shuffle of a walk. His pedes scraped the floor loud enough to catch the attention of the first guard, the one in the slouching around the middle of the lobby. They looked up and frowned. "Excuse me!"

Drift looked up and brightened, waving at them. "Hi! I'm...lost? I'm _lost_."

"Femme, please—"

"I'm looking for—oh! I'm not supposed to tell you." Drift giggled and swayed into the guard's space. "It's a _se_ cret."

The guard exvented, turning his helm to the main doors. "Can I get some help over here?"

"Do you have friends here?!" Drift giggled again. "I'm _great_ with friends. Let's go say hi."

He clamped a servo down on the guards arm, dragging him with him towards the door. Arcee followed in their wake, more bemused than anything else. The other two exchanged an uneasy look as they approached. "Uh?"

"I think one of the Senators had a...friend visiting." The first guard said through clenched denta. "She's clearly on something."

"I'm on top of the world." Drift smiled inanely, before swaying, optics fluttering. He released his hold on the guard before crashing to the floor.

"Frag." The first guard sighed. "I think she offlined herself. Can one of you help me?"

Both guards came over, and just as they Drift's optics flew open and sought Arcee's. They swapped without a thought. She burst up from the ground, catching the first guard under the chin where he was leaned over to look at her. She used the rest of her momentum to launch herself towards the other two, who'd gotten close enough to each other that she could kick out the right one's knee joint while crushing the neck cables of the left one in her servo.

She spun, turning back to the right one and stomping on his helm until he was quiet. She rolled her helm and looked at Drift. "Not bad."

Drift rolled his optics. "Mecha are dumb."

"Yeah, you are." She clapped his shoulder and pulled him back to the door, opening it to the other four. "One path cleared, whenever you're ready."

Cyclonus gave her a small nod. "According to Rodimus that was, and I quote, 'super awesomely badaft.'"

"Thanks, I think." Arcee flexed her servos. "So, uh, are we gonna...go?"

"Yes!" Tailgate scrambled out the door. Cyclonus followed at a much more sedate pace with Whirl. The massive doors in the front of the lobby cracked just enough to admit them once they got close enough, a brilliant red arm reaching through and pulling Tailgate out.

"C'mon, c'mon," A new voice said. Arcee let Cyclonus go first, doing one last sweep of the building before they left. She ducked out the door, coming nose to nose with the owner of the bright red arm. Something clicked into place in her Spark, feeling just like Whirl, Cyclonus, and Tailgate had. "You are. So fragging cool."

"Uh, thanks?" Arcee blinked, looking around for the other three.

"Roddy." Tailgate tugged at his servo. "We have to go. Timetable, remember?"

Rodimus grinned at her, a wild and dangerous expression on his face. "I know, I know. You're not the only one who can hear Brainiac yelling next to us."

There was a transport at the bottom of the stairs. Arcee almost didn't notice it or them, looking up at the stars. They looked different. Their placement in the sky was all wrong. She was looking forward to learning them again.

The transport had a sol roof on it, spread wide enough to almost be the entire roof of the transport. Arcee tilted her helm back to watch the blur of the stars. Something broke free in her spark, pulsing in time with its cycling.

A flutter from the corner of her chest; a small pulse; a question.

For the first time in millennia, she sent a pulse back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the justice or order bit badly cribbed from the leverage finale??? you fuckin know it babes
> 
> ANYWAY, some things are resolved, some things are introduced, join us all next week for a new pairing :)


	9. Interlude IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anode shrugged. "Dunno mech. That kinda thing's pretty hard to fake."
> 
> "Do you know many bonded mechs with a bondmate that's been in spark prison for more vorn than they were together?" Aileron didn't raise her voice. She wasn't...mad. Not really. Not anymore. "This could be entirely typical."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the land of ocs and dumb headcanons folks :)
> 
> tapout was named by k in a stroke of genius

"Tap! Get back here!"

Aileron huffed an exvent, propping her servos on her hips. Tapout didn't pretend not to hear. She never did.

She tossed Aileron a smile over her shoulder, little winglets wriggling while she took off running. Aileron rolled her optics, but it was with a smile. "Don't go too far then!"

"Never, mama!" Tapout disappeared into one of the small alcoves in the playground. Aileron's spark faltered in its cycle, but she knew that Tapout would reappear when she was ready. She was working on letting go of that paranoia. It had been vorn that they were safe here.

Aileron sent a pulse to the corner of her spark that still held the bond.

Maybe it was the ghost of activity there that was feeding her paranoia lately. She rubbed her chest with her servo. Slipstream sidled up next to her. "Still bugging you?"

"It's nothing." Aileron dropped her servo, watching Tapout and Flamewar tumble from the alcove, servos locked on each other's arms, the most ineffective wrestling match she'd ever seen.

Slipstream snorted, watching them as well. "Really gonna have to work on their form. That's just sad to watch."

"They're sparklings." Aileron hummed. Her spark ached. "They're supposed to be...silly."

"I know." Slipstream's voice cracked. Aileron pressed their wings together. Slipstream audibly cycled her intake. "Hard to let go of, huh?"

"Unbelievably." Aileron agreed. Some days she wondered if she never wanted Tapout to fight at all, or if she just wanted her to learn to fight from the mech she was always supposed to. It was a toss up.

Something at the edge of her spark flared. Not a pulse, just...an awareness. A possibility maybe.

Aileron exvented, trying to rationalize the feeling. "You don't... There's nothing..."

"No." Slipstream's face hardened in the corner of her optic. She saw her servos twitch, like they wanted to rise and press against her chest plates. "Void Pulse is still living up to her name."

Aileron laughed. "That's terrible."

"She'd love it." Slipstream shrugged. Their wings knocked together again.

Sparklings made a lot of noise. All the time. Aileron watched Tapout and Flamewar get recruited by Tracks and Skids into some kind of ridiculous scheme. Skids always had one. Tapout's winglets brushed against Tracks's spoiler, their helms brushing together as they looked furtively up at the very top of the tallest part of the playground structure. Aileron was just about to start forward when Mirage appeared from nowhere, scooping Tracks up and away.

She couldn't hear what Mirage said to them, but the responding pouts were enough to set her at ease. Another wing brushed her on the other side. "One day that kid of ours is gonna figure out how to get his and Tracks's plans past Mirage and then we'll all be doomed."

"Skids make his way past the newest lock yet?" Slipstream asked sympathetically.

"Less than a groon." Anode opined. "I'm trying to blame Lug, but she keeps blaming me."

The mecha in question sidled up next to Mirage, pulling Skids up and onto her shoulders. His laughter rang loud enough to cut all the way to where the three of them were standing. Tapout and Flamewar, sensing a bust, cast twin looks over to Aileron and Slipstream before running off to the other end of the playground.

"I imagine there's a goodly amount of blame to go around." Aileron said, knocking her wing into Anode's.

Anode exvented. "Yeah, probably."

"Could be worse." Slipstream shrugged. "He could be teaching the other sparklings his tricks and then you'd have angry parents on your hand."

"What do you think Lug keeps lecturing me about?" Anode's voice was full of put upon sorrow. Aileron laughed and for a nanoklik she thought that the other end of the bond was laughing back but...

She pulsed. It was silent.

Tapout and Flamewar reemerged from wherever they'd gone off to that time, sprinting and tumbling to a stop in front of them. Tapout grinned up at her. "Mama, Snout says she found some armodrillos near her hab. Can we go and see them later?"

"Can we? Can we?" Flamewar hopped from pede to pede, absolutely incapable of standing still.

"I'll ask." Slipstream raised an optic ridge. " _If_ you get all your chores done first."

"Lame." Flamewar frowned, but nodded in agreement. Tapout looked at Aileron with pleading optics and she nodded.

"Same deal, kiddo."

"That's okay," Tapout said, "It's my turn to do the sucking up anyway."

"Vacuuming, bitlet." Aileron laughed. "Go on, we'll ask Dez before we leave."

They ran off again, all uncoordinated limbs and chattering glyphs overlapping each other. Slipstream waited until they were out of audial range to exvent. "Slag. I fraggin' hate talking to Deathsaurus."

"It's good that Snout has friends." Aileron chided.

"None of us blame Snout for having to deal with that." Anode chimed in. "Don't be coy either, we know you don't like him."

"I'm nothing of the sort." Aileron knocked their wings together. "He's fine."

"He's a fraggin' weirdo but sure. Fine." Slipstream snorted. "Slaaag. I'll go talk to him for the both of us if you watch Flamewar?"

"Of course." Aileron hid another wince as the bond seemed to flutter from the other side. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me until I come back with both of us alive." Slipstream knocked their wings once more before setting off.

"Slip said you've been getting feelings from the bond?" Anode's voice was more careful than Aileron had ever heard it before.

"Some flutterings." Aileron rubbed her chest. "It's nothing. It _can't_ be anything."

Anode shrugged. "Dunno mech. That kinda thing's pretty hard to fake."

"Do you know many bonded mechs with a bondmate that's been in spark prison for more vorn than they were together?" Aileron didn't raise her voice. She wasn't...mad. Not really. Not anymore. "This could be entirely typical."

"Could be." Anode watched Lug and Skids run around. "I think...I think it's real."

"Spark prison, Anode," Aileron said, ignoring the kindle of hope in her spark.

"Stranger things have happened." Anode hummed. "I'm gonna go rescue _my_ bondmate from our sparkling."

With one last knock of their wings she set off, pulling Skids out of Lug's arms and tossing him into the air. Aileron watched them for a second before relocating Tapout and Flamewar. They were huddled together with Snout, deep in conversation. She kept her optics on them but let her processor wander.

The feelings from the other end of her inert bond had been all over the place really. Paranoia that she almost fondly remembered at this point. Happiness. The brief explosions of intent that she remembered as fighting. Fear.

A lot of fear.

They were all scattered and short, like the bond was stopping and starting with each burst of emotion. It had been...wild, this past quartex. The regularity of feeling had increased, and seemed to grow stronger each time.

The bond fluttered again just then. The feeling through it exploded on the back of her glossa. It tasted like...possibility.

Like freedom.

Aileron sent a pulse down the bond. She wasn't sure what she was expecting every time she did that. There wouldn't be an answer. She didn't know what she was asking even if there was.

Tapout had just looked up to send her a brilliant smile when the bond in her chest flared to life, a pulse coming back. Aileron felt her optics widen, felt her frame buckle, her knees hit the ground like it was all far away. Her awareness had all turned inward to that last bastion of hope she still held, to the bond that was once again in _love_ and the small thought that wasn't her own.

That was Arcee's.

 _I'm coming home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would LOVE to talk about slipstream/void pulse to anyone who will listen bc frankly?? it's genius


	10. Interlude IVS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vector opened their optics and were briefly blinded by the explosion of light they were suddenly engulfed in. They blinked and cycled until they adjusted, and the onslaught of light separated itself into individual sparks, swirling around in their own nothingness.
> 
> "Hello sister," They whispered, turning their helm this way and that. It appeared they were somewhere close to the middle of the Well. "Why have you brought me here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't realize just how invested readers would be in the eighth spark mystery...i hope y'all like this one :)

Vector floated slowly in the nothingness between spaces.

Well, it wasn't precisely floating. They could be standing. They could be laying down. There was no dimension with which to orient themselves. Or perhaps there were countless dimensions that they were entirely unfamiliar with.

The between space was unquantifiable, unqualifiable.

They closed their optics and floated.

Their processor turned towards the black holes that sprang into being, dying stars collapsing only to create something new. Something made to destroy. Vector had wondered once, when they were created to fight Unicron, if they were upsetting the natural balance of creation and destruction. What the destruction of such powerful entropy would do to Megatronus, it's guardian.

They didn't wonder any longer.

Vector opened their optics and were briefly blinded by the explosion of light they were suddenly engulfed in. They blinked and cycled until they adjusted, and the onslaught of light separated itself into individual sparks, swirling around in their own nothingness.

"Hello sister," They whispered, turning their helm this way and that. It appeared they were somewhere close to the middle of the Well. "Why have you brought me here?"

An overwhelming feeling rippled through the spaces between sparks. A chuckle, an acknowledgement, the knowledge that the Solus had done no such thing. Vector blinked. "Well then. Just what has?"

A spark detached itself from the swirling current of the Well, zooming with surprising speed to bump against their chest. Vector blinked down at it, servo coming up automatically to cradle it carefully closer. "Hello there. Just who are you?"

They reached out with their own spark, just to get a small taste. The spark flared back eagerly, enthusiasm and frustration in equal measure swamping through them. Vector laughed, the sound almost painful in their vocalizer. "One of Megatronus's new eight, aren't you? Strong spark. _Very_ strong. You're going to be something _big_ , aren't you little spark?"

The spark flared back, determination and affirmation. Vector considered it. "You're pulling for your cluster very hard, aren't you? You know something's wrong."

They cycled their intake. That was...rather more glyphs than they'd been able to manage in some millennia. They looked around the Well again. "Your doing, I presume, sister?"

The space between sparks shivered again and they knew that she was absolutely laughing at them. Vector hummed, keeping the spark close to their chest to share the feeling. "This is what you have to look forward to, little spark. Nothing but impertinence."

The spark flared back, happiness and contentment. Vector hummed again. "You're just lonely, aren't you? All your clustermates up there with each other, and you're still stuck here all on your own. Well. That's—"

Vector had spent eons alone. By Primus' servo. By their own. By the ostracism of Liege Maximo's almighty anger and sorrow. There was a comfort to the stretches of space that had never seen the light of a star. The velvety blackness of gravity pulling them in every direction at once.

They'd never been _truly_ alone.

"They cannot visit you here." Vector realized. "Nor can you visit them. Ah."

Vector kept the spark close to their chest and floated in the Well. "They're a good cluster. Strong. Smart. Still so many secrets, but perhaps you are their honesty. It's the nature of a new cluster, you see, to try and keep themselves separate. Keep secrets. You'll know no different, though, little spark. You will be forged with the completeness of a cluster. Secrets will never be in your nature. I can feel it."

The spark pulsed back determination and happiness. The feelings were so clean that Vector had to laugh. "Even now, at your basest emotions and instincts you are so honest."

They tilted their helm back, closing their optics. The spark was warm against their chest, and the comforting embrace of the Well surrounded their frame. "Yes. You will be their honesty. I only hope you are not too late, little spark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses as to who our eighth is going to be?? let me know in a comment [eyes]
> 
> aaaand unfortunately we're going to have to go on a hiatus while i write...the second half...hopefully we will be back soonish

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about robots on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)


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